Eternal Youth
by Red Lioness
Summary: Chase Young is reduced to a powerless child by a strange spell and ends up in the care of Jack Spicer. I've seen this concept countless times and figured: One more can't hurt! Rated 'T' for naughty words, sexual references and violence in later chapters
1. Strange Bedfellows

All XS character are copyright Christi Hui

The song 'White and Nerdy' is copyright Weird Al

I think the term 'The Dark Side' is copyright George Lucas, but I could be wrong.

Long story short, I own nothing and no one. This fic only quiets the voices in my head to a contented whisper.

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Chase Young snarled a vicious epitaph under his breath. Looking down at his spell-wrought body, he tried to change to lizard form to destroy the miserable worms that had caused this-no doubt completely out of blind luck-but there was no ripple of power.

"Where did he go?" Omi's voice came echoing down among the rocks.

"I don't know, li'l buddy," Clay's voice joined the Water Dragon's. "Maybe the combined Shen-Gong-Wu just . . . destroyed 'im."

"I don't think so," Kimiko called. "I thought I saw something move away from here just afterwards." The sound of metal scraping on stone reached his ears and Chase realized the Japanese girl was poking at his armor. "All of his clothes are here except for his shirt."

"So he might have teleported away?" Raimundo suggested. The Xiaolin monks' voices dropped as they drew closer together and Chase lost the gist on their conversation. No matter; they were entirely on the wrong path anyway. As humiliating as it sounded, he couldn't fight them in this . . . this . . .this **joke** of a body. He had to get out of here. Still swearing in Mandarin, the ancient warrior raised the one thing he had the foresight to hold onto: The Golden Tiger Claws.

"Golden Tiger Claws!"

Chase Young leapt through the dimensional rift made by the Shen-Gong-Wu and heaved a sigh of relief. The gust of wind stirred Wuya's skirt, who turned around and gawked at him.

"W-Wuya, this is not a good time!" Chase bellowed, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. "Leave my home this instant!" The witch blinked slowly as recognition dawned, and then threw her head back and laughed hysterically.

"Oh, oh my, Chase, is that you?! What in the nine hells happened?! You look-you look-!" the Heylin witch screeched.

"I believe I gave you an order," Chase growled. Wuya paused in her giggle fit to arch an eyebrow at the magically-transformed warrior.

"Oh? And can you still force me to obey like that?" she asked with a dangerous grin. Chase gritted his teeth.

The sound of raised voices drew the attention of the jungle cat warriors that guarded Chase Young's home. A group of five jogged into the room and sized up the two occupants.

"Warriors! Get rid of this witch!" Chase cried, pointing at Wuya. The cats continued to circle the pair, fixated not so much on Wuya as they were on Chase himself. The ancient warrior recognized the gleam in their eyes as they stared at his new body. They looked hungry.

"You can't even control your warriors like this," Wuya observed with obscene delight. "I wonder how long they'll play with that new body of yours before they decide to eat you?" A large black panther licked its chops and dropped into a hunting crouch. Chase felt the blood drain from his face. In desperation, he raised his hand and activated the Shen-Gong-Wu, fleeing from his own home.

He didn't go far. Chase Young sat shivering on a mountain peak a few miles from his lair, the wind snapping his shirt around him like a flag. He couldn't return to his home in this condition-if his own warriors didn't eat him first, Wuya was sure to take advantage of his condition for her own purposes, even if those purposes were strictly revenge. Hannibal Bean would also be along quickly to take advantage of the situation, as would a host of other, lesser villains. At least the jungle cats would try to defend their own territory, even if they didn't recognize their lord and master. Chase sighed; as much as he hated to admit it, he needed protection until he could return to his normal form. And, equally as sadly, he could only think of one person who, even though they had been at odds in the past, had never tried to bring him to harm.

"Gods," he groaned to himself, teeth chattering. "Not--"

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"Jack Spicer! I have need of you!" Chase Young declared, stepping through the dimensional rift in the evil genius's lab.

"'_Happy Days is my favorite theme song_

_I could sure kick your butt in a game of ping pong_

_I'll ace any trivia quiz you bring on_

_I'm fluent in JavaScript as well as Klingon_'"

Jack's voice came drifting through the laboratory. Chase blinked. What was-hadn't the boy heard him?

"Spicer?" Chase asked hesitantly.

"'_They see me roll on -- a Segue_

_I know in my heart they think I'm white and nerdy._

_Think I'm just too white and nerdy_

_Think I'm just too white and nerdy_

_Can't you see I'm white and nerdy?_

_Lookit me; I'm white and nerdy_

_I'd like to roll with -- the Heylin_

_Although it's apparent I'm too white and nerdy. _"

Chase scowled. He needed help, not a serenade. Following the sound of the goth teen's voice, the evil warlord found Jack Spicer waist deep in the engine of one of his air cars.

"Spicer! Spicer!"

Jack continued to ignore him, the youth's torso buried in the engine cavity and his lower half swaying slightly in tune with his own singing.

"'_I'm nerdy in the extreme_

_I'm whiter than sour cream._

_I was in the A/V club and glee club and even the chess team!_

_The only question I ever thought was hard_

_Was 'Do I like Kirk or do I like Picard?_

_Spend every weekend at the Renaissance Faire_

_Got my name in my underwear_'"

"You had better be wearing those personal music devices!" Chase yelled. "If you're simply ignoring me, I'll-I'll . . . Even like this I can make you suffer, Spicer!"

The ancient warrior stood behind Jack, staring up at the teenager's shimmying rear end with mounting anger. Why had he never noticed how tall Spicer was before? And it seemed to be all leg, too. The teen had removed his trench coat to work on his vehicle and Chase's eye landed on the leather belt cinched around the goth youth's trim waist. Running a few steps to gather momentum, Chase leapt up and grabbed hold of the belt, crashing into Jack's rear in the process.

"Jack Spicer, if you don't-"

The ancient warlord never got to finish his threat. As soon as the genius felt his rear get tackled from behind, he shrieked in surprise, straightening up with surprising force and cracking his head on the raised hood of the air car. The force of the blow actually knocked the genius's earbuds out. Bending again, he staggered backwards, clutching his aching head and wondering what the hell had just latched onto his butt. Too big for a cat; not enough teeth for a dog . . . a monkey, maybe?

Jack was just coming to this hypothesis when the weight let go and fell to the floor. The teen, still staggering backwards, promptly tripped over the whatever-it-was, his lanky body crashing mercilessly onto the concrete floor.

"Ow . . .What the-?" Jack sat up gingerly and looked at his attacker.

A little boy, no more than four years old and wearing only an adult's shirt, glared back at him.

"What the-how the-Geez, kid, who let you in here?!" He demanded. The little Chinese boy glared at him with enough venom to not only kill, but chop up the body and leave it strewn about the room; glared at him with ancient golden eyes that belied such young age. Golden eyes . . ? The kid also had long, dark hair with green highlights . . . and . . . strangely pointed ears?

"Ch-Chase?" Jack asked in disbelief. Chase had had quite enough for one day and in irritation said something very childish:

"Don't you dare laugh at me, Spicer!" Jack's red eyes widened slightly, and then his lips compressed in a tight, thin line.

"'M not laughin'," he squeaked between gritted teeth.

"Then why are you biting your lip?" Chase snapped, feeling the last of his patience dwindle away. Jack's white cheeks, bunched up and tight, were starting to flush pink with the effort of keeping his bottled up amusement contained.

"I - uh, just remembered something funny I - uh - saw on TV last night?" The goth teen offered. Clenching his suddenly tiny fists, Chase Young leapt to his feet.

"You listen to me, Jack Spicer. Those pathetic excuses for Xiaolin Dragons-by sheer, ignorant luck-formed the Sutra of Purification. It's their fault I'm trapped in this joke of a body. And while I have long, excruciating, and merciless plans for them once this little affair is over, in the meantime, I require your assistance. Do not fail me!"

"O-Okay," Jack stammered, cringing. It wasn't fair: Chase could still terrify him even though the evil lord was now standing, Jack was sitting flat on his butt, and they were eye to eye. "What do you need me to do?"

"I require access to my home. My warriors are heedless of my commands while I am like **this**," Chase sneered down at his small, soft body. "Also, Wuya is there and no doubt plans to take advantage of the situation. But first and foremost, Spicer, I require clothing that fits, something hot in my stomach, and I wish to know where your bathroom is located."

"Oh. Uh. Bathroom's up the stairs, third door on your right," Jack said, pointing to the stairs leading to the main house. "I'll have one of the Jackbots bring down some of my old clothes from the attic. And . . . um . . . I guess I could heat up some ravioli."

"Very well," Chase intoned regally. He gathered up the hem of his shirt with much more dignity than he should have been able to muster. "I am going to take a bath. When I am finished, I expect a fresh set of clothing, a hot meal, and then we shall discuss how I am going to re-take my home."

"Uh-," Jack started.

Chase arched an eyebrow. "Any questions, Spicer?"

"Don't you mean 'how _we_ are going to retake your home'?"

"No." The ancient warrior stated coldly. "I don't."

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Jack muttered impolite words under his breath as he emptied the can of pasta into the saucepan. Snotty little brat; Chase had come to his house begging for help and what did he want Jack to do? Make him something to eat, get him some clean clothes, and show him the potty. Jack's mouth twisted up at the thought of Baby Chase needing to be led to the bathroom. He should use that phrase around the evil warlord; after all, it wasn't like the little ankle biter could do anything about it now.

"I suppose you think this is amusing, Spicer?" a voice behind him growled.

Jack yelped, leaping forward into the stove and promptly burning his hand on the hot saucepan. Clutching his hand, the goth teen spun around. Chase was standing directly behind him, holding out a child's T-shirt. The dragon lord had put on Jack's old black jeans, socks, and black sneakers, but his chest was bare. The shirt he was holding at arm's length, also black, was printed with the legend 'I heart the Dark Side' in cheery blue and white letters.

"Owww! Chase, you made me burn my hand!" Jack whined, stepping over to the sink to run cold water over the injury. "And what's wrong with that shirt? You love being evil."

"I will not be made a mockery of, Spicer," Chase snarled.

"You asked for clothes, I got you clothes that fit. I even washed and dried them first. The Jackbots are cleaning the next load now so you can have something new for tomorrow. Anyway, if that's not something you want to wear, I'm sure there's still some Hello Kitty shirts in the box that would fit you."

Chase turned the shirt around to glare suspiciously at the words, but looked back up at Jack at the last sentence.

"Hello Kitty?"

"Yeah. My Mom-Well, Mom always wanted a daughter, and I think she believed if she dressed me in girly clothes I'd get the hint and change genders," Jack said uncomfortably.

"Hmm. That explains much," Chase said. With a shrug, he pulled the T-shirt over his head and pulled his hair out of the back.

"What's **that** supposed to mean?!" Jack snapped.

Chase fixed him with a smug, evil grin. "It is 'supposed to mean' that you behave with all the mincing and femininity of the average debutante. You're as weak and helpless as a woman, Spicer. Now that you inform me that you were raised as one, it explains much. But don't worry-I'm sure that some day you'll find a man to take care of you."

Jack's red eyes narrowed hatefully.

"You talk big for a femmy-looking little boy with hair down past his butt," the evil genius spat. "In fact, if you're not careful, you might find all your nice butch boys' clothes gone in the morning and some frilly pink dresses there instead!"

Chase's own golden eyes narrowed. He glared up the length of Jack Spicer-such length; had the boy always been so tall?-and realized there was a pressure point on the inside of Jack's thigh that was within his shortened reach. Even a light strike there would leave Spicer curled up on the floor in his own private world of pain. Giving the goth teen a smug smirk, the dragon lord sharply brought two fingers down on Jack's thigh.

The albino youth twitched.

"Ow! That hurt!" Jack snapped, shoving by Chase. "Keep this up and you can get your own damn ravioli!"

Chase Young stared up at Jack, momentary squabbles about clothing forgotten. Spicer was a notorious weakling; that strike should have laid him on the ground for five minutes. Perhaps . . . Yes, Chase had miscalculated the strength of his new body and had given the self-proclaimed Prince of Darkness nothing more than a rough poke. The dragon lord approached Jack as he poured the now hot pasta into a bowl and set it at the large island in the middle of the kitchen. Spicer scowled at him, but said nothing as he retrieved a spoon for the ravioli and a high stool to sit on.

"It's not Lao Mang Lone, but it's hot. I guess . . . um, there's probably some milk or something in the fridge," he groused, still miffed. A small hand reached out and caught hold of his jeans. Jack felt a twinge of guilt. Chase was staring up at him with a look of uncertainty that was so . . . so _childlike_ that it even stirred Spicer's nearly non-existent paternal instincts.

"But-I bet there's some chocolate syrup in there, too," he offered, giving a helpful smile.

Chase blinked up at him with huge gold eyes, and then delivered a knife hand strike to the inside of Jack's thigh with as much strength as he could muster.

Pain shot down the teen's leg to his toes, raced back up to his spine and detonated in the back of his skull. He felt his knee start to buckle and staggered back a step before he managed to catch himself.

"_Ooooooooooowww!!!_ What the hell was that for, you little bastard?!?" Jack screamed.

Chase seemed unconcerned by his yelling, simply putting one hand over his mouth as he pondered the reaction.

"My strength is a bit . . . . . less than I thought," the evil overlord murmured uneasily.

"You had to hit me twice to figure out a _toddler_ is a lot weaker than an _adult_?! Are you finally starting to go senile?" Jack howled.

Chase glared at the pale youth. "Watch it, Spicer. I may not be up to my normal strength, but--"

"Yeah, yeah, you can make me suffer!" Jack snapped. The evil boy genius grabbed Chase under the arms, ignoring the warrior's startled expression and deposited him less than gently on the stool. "Here's a spoon, now eat your damn pasta and leave me in peace!"


	2. Drunken Lullabies

All XS characters are copyright Christi Hui

'Father Ted' and 'My Hero' are copyright (at least in the US) of BBCAmerica

'Snatch' is copyright Guy Ritchie

'Dragon Tales' are copyright somebody else

Long story short, I own nothing and make no money off of this venture, it just quiets the voices in my head to a contented whisper.

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". . . and then there was a great flash. When it had cleared, this was all we found of Chase Young." Omi finished, gesturing to the pile of clothes and armor the Xiaolin monks had retrieved.

"I see. But you do not believe Chase Young was obliterated?" Master Fung asked.

The old master studied the clothing spread out in front of him intently. He was loathe to admit it, but he doubted his pupils could have defeated the great Chase Young so easily, Shen-Gong-Wu or no Shen-Gong-Wu.

"His shirt was gone," Kimiko protested. "And I could have swore I saw something move away from the pile just afterward."

Master Fung rubbed his chin, obviously deep in thought.

"I shall have to study the ancient scrolls." He said, rising gracefully to his feet. "We shall see what has become of Chase Young."

"The Golden Tiger Claws were gone, too." Raimundo interjected. "So he could have just teleported away."

"But Chase Young doesn't need the Golden Tiger Claws," Clay drawled. "He can teleport without 'em."

"And fly, and turn into a dragon-monster, and command an army of jungle cats, and use magic . . . " Kimiko let the sentence drift.

"Do not forget he is the greatest warrior in all of history!" Omi added helpfully.

"Yeah, yeah, Omi; we get the idea." Rai sighed. "Chase Young can do anything."

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Chase was beginning to suspect he had been too hasty in forbidding Spicer to help him retake his stronghold.

This realization dawned when it took the evil overlord ten minutes to pour a glass of milk.

Sitting on the tall stool, Chase realized he was without a beverage and decided to get one himself. The first step involved getting off of the stool without falling; Chase's legs were too short to reach the first rung of the stool while he was in a sitting position. After a few aborted attempts, the dragon lord discovered he could descend safely if he rolled onto his stomach and lowered his legs to the rungs backwards. Then he had to retrieve a glass. There didn't seem to be any step stools around, so the tall stool had to be dragged across the floor to the cabinets. Once a glass was found, Chase lowered himself back to the floor and trotted over to the refrigerator. He opened the appliance and said an extremely rude word in Mandarin.

The milk was on the highest shelf.

The stool was retrieved again and Chase clambered up it muttering dark words about a family of giants. Then came the question of how he was supposed to climb down holding a gallon of milk. In the end he placed the milk on the stool seat, climbed down, and then took the milk from the seat. Back to the cabinet; Chase reversed the process to carry the milk up and finally poured the hard-earned glass. He returned the milk to the fridge, on a low shelf this time. He dragged the stool back across to the island and clambered back up.

If he hadn't been hungry before, he was now.

Chase chewed and swallowed mechanically as he pondered his predicament. How to return himself to normal? He needed to return to his home and use the Fountain of Wii and the Eaglescope to find out how it was done. But how to get past his warriors and Wuya? If he had the Tongue of Saiping, he could command the cats to help him, but Wuya wouldn't be easily defeated. Even if Chase threw Jack to her, the albino youth wouldn't even be able to delay the fifteen hundred year old witch long enough for Chase to use the Fountain of Wii.

Unless he had the Monkey Staff.

Chase finished his meal and slid off of the stool a final time, leaving the dishes where they were. He wasn't a maid; someone else could deal with them. The dragon lord headed back down to the entrance to Jack's lair.

Speaking of maids, certainly there had to be some here; the grand house was too neat and clean to have been left in Jack's care. Chase paused to look around the impeccable interior of the mansion. This house was built to impress. Certainly it didn't impress i Chase,/i but by modern standards it was fairly grand.

It wasn't the kind of place you dumped a teenager by himself.

Jack's parents would come into the picture before too long. While Chase was hoping his current age predicament could be solved in short order, he did realize that it might not be possible.

"Who are you?" A strange voice asked.

Chase turned. An old woman was standing in the hallway behind him. Her round face covered in wrinkles put Chase in mind of a dried apple. Her skin was pale, her hair gone completely white, but her blue eyes still sparkled like twin diamonds. The family resemblance was unmistakable.

"You are Jack Spicer's grandmother." It was more of a statement than a question.

"How do you know Our Jackie, little one?" The woman tilted her head, giving Chase a calculating look. A faint brogue touched her words. She was Scottish or Irish; Chase never cared much to tell the difference.

"I smell death on you," Chase Young announced coldly.

Grandmother Spicer stepped past the miniaturized dragon lord and pounded on the door to the basement with her cane.

"Open up, Our Jackie!!" She bellowed. "It's Friday night!!"

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Jack burst through the door, taking in the pair that watched him intently.

"Nana Spicer! Uh . . . I don't think I'll be able to do it tonight," Jack said, rolling his eyes toward Chase. "Something came up. I'm - uh . . . . b-babysitting."

Chase narrowed his eyes at Spicer, but didn't contest the claim. It would do for now.

Nana Spicer gave Chase another head-to-toe look. The dragon lord returned her gaze steadily.

"Our Jackie, did you knock up some little slant-eyed girl?" Nana asked, turning her attention back to the goth teen. "And now she's done a runner and left you with the brat?"

"NANA!" Jack wailed, turning crimson. "I did not knock anybody up! Chase is not mine!"

"You're still a virgin, aren't you?" The woman stated, shaking her head. "When I was your age, I was seducing Allied officers on a nightly basis."

The color of Jack's face approached that of his hair.

"Nana, no sex stories in front of Chase, please."

Young chuckled under his breath. Nana Spicer was certainly entertaining, if only for her ability to embarrass Jack.

"Chase, eh? Admit it, Our Jackie: This is your wee one. Those yellow eyes didn't spring from nowhere. Oh, I'm not angry, luv. It's good to know you're a healthy young man. Does your worthless mother know?"

"Nana . . . ." Jack whined, mortally embarrassed.

"Still, it's hard to believe a mother would get rid of her own child. But I've heard they do that in China. Why do they hate little girls so much here?"

Chase's eyes widened.

Jack's eyes snapped up from the floor to lock eyes with Chase and then threw a panicked look towards his grandmother.

"Ch-Chase is a **boy**, Nana!" Jack squawked, wanting to cut off the explosion before it happened. "You know what; I-I'm sure Chase'll be fine while we have our Friday night!" The goth teen closed and locked the door to the basement behind him. "I-I'll just get things set up!"

As Chase turned to the elderly woman to give her a vicious tongue-lashing, Jack caught him under the arms and swung the shrunken warrior up onto one hip.

"Put me down!" Chase demanded.

"Don't chew out my granny!" Jack hissed. "Just sit tight and hang out with us for the next couple of hours. We'll have our usual Friday night and then go storm your castle in the morning."

The albino youth quickly hustled Chase down the twisting hallways to an expansive living room. An enormous flat screen TV took up most of one wall. In fact, the only reason the room could be called a living room and not a private theatre was the fact that theaters don't have couches, personal jukeboxes, and refrigerators.

"_Put me down!_ " Chase repeated, kicking at Jack. This time the teen complied, letting the dragon lord slide down one leg to the floor. Mustering what dignity he could, Chase straightened his clothing. "_Never_ carry me around like that again! I am not your teddy bear, Jack Spicer!"

"Teddy bear? Where the hell did that come from?" Jack echoed.

"So what exactly does this usual Friday night consist of?"

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"I used to know a grand toast,

But alas, I cannot think of it-," Jack said, lifting a tall glass of beer.

"So raise your glass to anything,

And bless your soul, I'll drink to it!" Nana Spicer chimed in, clinking her own glass against her grandson's.

The pair tipped back the dark ales with astonishing speed. Nana finished her glass a hair earlier than Jack. The woman slammed her glass back down on the coffee table while her grandson turned his empty glass upside down and balanced in on top of his head.

"So . . . every Friday night, you watch something Irish and drink each other under the table?" Chase intoned, arching an eyebrow.

"Irish, or Scottish, or even English. Our Jackie likes those Guy Ritchie movies," Nana said, pouring herself another drink. "I miss the Isles, but you know how it is with the statute of limitations. I was just lucky my favorite grandson lives in a non-extradition treaty country."

Chase rubbed his forehead in the manner of the heavily put upon.

"Now I know he's yours, Our Jackie," Nana said. "He understood all of that. Only tot I ever saw that was that eloquent at his age was you, lug."

Jack blushed again. He dropped a stack of DVDs on the table, then poured himself another glass of beer.

"Nana, he's not my son. I'm just watching him for a little while because . . . his father is out of the country."

"You're a terrible liar, Our Jackie. You need to work on that more. So, what do you want to watch, Our Chase? Something funny? 'Father Ted' or 'My Hero'?"

"Chase is more of a Guy Ritchie kind of kid, Nana. Let's watch 'Snatch'!" Jack said, waving a DVD.

"You threw a fit over me mentioning sex in front of him, but you'll show him a Guy Ritchie film?" Nana asked, arching an eyebrow. Her second glass of beer was already gone.

"Hey, I'm a typical American; blood and guts are just fine, sex is horribly scarring." Jack snarked, popping the disc into the player and walking back to the couch. The albino teen flopped down on the couch. Chase was arranged between them, eyeing both Spicers with thinly veiled contempt.

"How about how I met your grandfather? That's nice and romantic." Nana offered, topping up her drink again.

"Not the way you tell it," Jack said, giving his grandmother a sidelong glance.

"Our Chase, when I was the same age Our Jackie is now-"

"Nana was a spy for the Nazis, Grandad was an SS lieutenant who fled Germany after the war. Nana hid him in her barn for two years and he ended up killing her abusive father. They fell in love and had kids; the end." Jack snapped quickly. He downed his beer and poured another.

"I still like my version better," Nana sighed.

"I don't mind your version, Nana," Jack growled. "Even the graphic recitation of your and Grandad's sexual escapades isn't so bad right up until the point where you say how much I look like him and start listing off all our similarities while looking at me like I'm a steaming hot steak!" Jack tossed back his drink. "You're my grandmother! It's creepy!"

Chase snorted, putting one hand over his face.

Nana Spicer 'harrumphed' to herself and went to the refrigerator in the back of the room. She returned to the couch with a package of cookies and a small plastic cup. She set them on the coffee table in front of Chase.

"Here you are, Our Chase," she crooned. "Since your father didn't bother to set you up-"

"He's _not MINE_!"

"-Here's some Jammy Dodgers and a bevy. Our Jackie'll get better at this fatherhood lark."

Chase rolled his eyes. The implication that he was Jack Spicer's son was nothing short of insulting, but he was fairly certain the old bag was doing it just to irritate the boy genius. Chase was all for irritating Spicer. The diminutive dragon lord picked up the cup Nana Spicer had given him. Milk again, but it appeared to have a touch of chocolate syrup in it. Chase sipped the liquid carefully. Yellow eyes lit up with delight. It was chocolately, but not exactly chocolate. There seemed to be a hint of almond and . . . was that hazelnut? It was quite delicious. Perhaps a bit of relaxation was in order. Chase Young drank down the milky beverage as Jack Spicer started his fifth beer.

The film started with some fairly amusing scenes of extreme violence and robbery. The cookies were quite delicious and against his better judgment, Chase settled back against the couch.

He was a bit surprised to see Spicer drinking like a longshoreman, but with Nana Spicer as an enabler, anyone could turn into an alcoholic. Chase had never been much of a drinker. The loss of control brought on by liquor was nothing short of terminally stupid.

The goth teen never even blinked when Chase asked Nana for a second cup of chocolate milk. His attention was firmly grabbed half an hour later when Chase abruptly collapsed against his thigh.

Jack blinked down at the dragon lord. At first he had thought that Chase's new body had simply conked out on him, but the blush on the warrior's cheeks and the intensity of the sudden sleep had him cocking an eyebrow at his grandmother.

"Did the poor dear drop off already? Well, you know how it is with wee ones." Nana replied sweetly.

Jack narrowed his eyes. Nana Spicer acting sweet and matronly was a sure sign she was up to something. His eyes fell on the plastic cup Chase still clutched in one hand. Prying it gently from the child's grasp, Jack brought it to his nose for an experimental sniff.

"Nana." He sighed roughly. "This is Bailey's Irish Cream. You're giving Our Chase booze."

"It'll help him sleep."

"Nana, he's four."

"So? I used to put Bailey's in your sippy cup. It never did you any harm."

Jack rubbed his face, sighing roughly. He put the cup on the coffee table and gathered the unconscious toddler in his arms.

"I'm putting him to bed now," Spicer sighed. The goth teen wobbled slightly as he stood up. "Eight beers and I'm feeling it; you're turning me into a lightweight, Chase."

Chase didn't answer, just flopped bonelessly against the albino youth. As he headed out of the room, Jack tilted the child in his arms, watching him flop back and forth. Jack giggled.

"My grandma just got the biggest evil genius in history drunk. Two cups of Bailey's and you're out like a light. Man, you're a cheap date, Chase."

Jack tittered. If he tilted the evil warlord just right, the boy's head would flop back and he'd start snoring lightly.

"Uh . . . . where are you going to sleep?"

In the end, Jack ended up putting Chase down in his own bed. He took off the warlord's sneakers and jeans, nearly laughing himself sick when he saw the Dragon Tales underoos Chase had chosen.

Biting back laughter, Jack tucked the covers in around the child.

"You're still Chase in your head. But you're gonna need some help if you need to kick ass on the Heylin level. I'll get to work on something to help in the morning. 'Night, Chase."


	3. A Little Help from My Friends

Chase Young awoke with a pounding headache and tongue that felt covered in fuzz. With a groan, the ancient warlord rolled onto his stomach and pulled a pillow over his head. The thought the the pillow seemed a lot bigger than usual flitted through his sleep-fogged mind. A moment later, Chase's golden eyes snapped open. This wasn't his bed.

The sheets were silk, certainly, but Chase had more taste than to have black silk bedsheets. Besides which, _his_ sheets had at least twice the thread count of these off-the-shelf affairs. But important than the softness of the sheets was the scent. These sheets smelled of cheap soap, expensive shampoo, hot metal and motor oil. They smelled like _Jack Spicer._ The thought brought him out from under the covers with a shout. Chase wouldn't put it past the little pervert to have somehow drugged him and dragged him back to the Spicer estate for a romantic evening of date rape.

Chase first realized something wasn't right when he leapt to the floor and missed. What should have been a graceful landing turned into an awkward crash. The ancient warrior landed in a heap, trying to understand why his legs seemed two feet shorter than normal. Sitting up, Chase Young studied his small, stubby fingers in shock. The events of the previous day came back to him slowly and he groaned.

A Jack-Bot rose up from where it had been resting in the corner and approached him.

"Master Chase, is there anything you require?" The machine inquired.

Chase rubbed his head, getting his fingers tangled in his wild, messy hair. Pulling them out, he winced slightly. Somehow he doubted Spicer would have the kind of products he usually used on his mane.

"I'm taking a shower. Have hot tea, slices of fresh fruit, a cup of yogurt, and two slices of whole wheat toast ready when I emerge. Fetch me a fresh change of clothes as well."

"Yes, sir," The automaton dipped briefly in mockery of a bow, then flew out the door.

Chase entered Jack's attached bathroom and shed his clothing. He climbed into the shower, then paused as he contemplated the shampoo and conditioner, placed well above his head. After a moment's thought, Chase picked up the long-handled scrub brush from behind the faucet and knocked them down. Pleased with himself, he showered in peace. Chase was surprised by the quality of hair care products Jack used, but wasn't about to complain. Why would anyone waste such efforts on hair so short?

Chase's long hair had always been a source of considerable pride for the warrior. When most fighters shaved their heads or at least bound their long hair in tight braids, Chase had left his long and loose to boast of his skill.

'Look at all of this,' it would taunt opponents. 'It would make a perfect hand-hold, if you could just catch it. What? Oh, too slow. Better luck next time. Wait; there won't be a next time.'

Smirking at the memory of past victories, Chase climbed out and dried himself off. He left the towel where it fell; he couldn't reach the rail and wasn't going to bother to try. The Jack-Bot had left a change of clothes in a neat stack on the toilet seat, thankfully lowered. More blue jeans, a dark green shirt and a black hooded sweatshirt with a white skull screen printed on the chest.

Chase got dressed, then clambered up to sit on the edge of the sink so he could look in the mirror while he gingerly picked a comb through his hair. His golden eyes drifted across the various bottles and jars arranged on the sink.

Jack Spicer owned more sunblock than any one human being ever should. Chase didn't know they made SPF 70. No wonder the boy had skin like porcelain. Idly, the dragon lord opened the medicine cabinet and peered inside. Plenty of bandages and maximum strength painkillers, but the bottom shelf was filled with prescription bottles. Chase picked through them. He didn't recognize any of the medicine names, but Jack had written 'cheat notes' across the back of most of them. Again, the vast majority were devoted to skin care and sun block. Sighing, Chase shut the cabinet.

A red and white bottle on the shelf caught his eye. 'Magic Bullet' detangling spray. Well, it was worth a shot; Chase sprayed a generous amount into his hair. The next stroke of the comb passed effortlessly through the wild tangle.

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The door to Jack's lair banged open as Chase Young put his Weeboks to good use. Spicer spun around, shoving his goggles back up around his hairline. Chase thrust the bottle towards the albino teen.

"Where do I find more of this miraculous spray?" The dragon lord demanded.

"Kicks ass, doesn't it? Use it for a few weeks and you forget what tangles are. It makes your hair so soft. Here; feel." Jack bent down until his head was within reach of the toddler. Stubby fingers burrowed deep into the thick red strands.

"Oooo," Chase cooed, obviously impressed.

"You can keep the bottle; I order it by the case from the States. Come here; I've got something to show you." Jack stood and returned to the worktable. He fiddled with something out of Chase's sight for a minute.

"I know you don't want to admit it, Chase, but you're pretty helpless right now. But lucky for you, you've got Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius on your side! With options for every super-villain issue that could arise, all easily operated by toddler strength!" Jack held up a black and white and red object before thrusting in front of Chase. "Ta daa! You'd never guess it's weapon, would you?!"

Chase Young stared at the object held in front of him in silence. After a minute or so, he lifted his eyes to meet Spicer's.

"Have you lost what passes for you mind?" The dragon lord asked icily.

"What? It's disguised. . . nobody will know you're armed," Jack protested weakly.

"Spicer-," Chase snarled.

"Nobody will think twice about seeing a little kid carry this . . ."

"Spicer!"

"I worked on it all morning!"

"Absolutely not!"

"I call it-"

"I refuse!"

"The Jack-Bear!"

Jack held out a black and white teddy bear. The major color was black, with white on the stomach, paws and nose. The same mask design Jack wore on his helipack was embossed across the stomach and Chase couldn't help but notice that the button eyes were ruby red.

"It's a teddy bear!" Chase pointed out.

"It's the Jack-Bear. Look, it's armed to the teeth. It even has a built in phone so you can call me if you need to." Jack pressed the bear's right ear. The soft inside of the ear flipped open to reveal a phone speaker. At the same time, the bear's mouth dropped open to reveal the receiver.

"If you think the mighty Chase Young is going to cuddle a teddy bear, then you are completely-" Chase was cut off abruptly as Jack dropped the toy into his arms. The shrunken lord staggered back under the weight of the bear. "It's heavy."

"Of course it is. It has compressed gas canisters, a taser, the phone, a grappling hook, even a low grade laser that fires three round bursts. Uh . . . you might want to turn it around the other way." Jack said, shuffling the bear around until it's stomach faced outwards.

"The attacks emerge from the stomach?" Chase groped a hand along the bear's body. There was some sort of button in the toy's right arm. Chase pressed it and a line shot out of the bear's paw, making Jack jump and squeal in alarm.

"Uh, y-yeah. There's a flap in the back of the head. Just put your hand in there and you'll feel buttons." The albino youth carefully leaned out of the line of fire as he said this. "Please don't press them now or we'll have to evacuate the lab."

"What are these straps?" Chase fingered two padded straps that emerged from the bear's neck.

"If he's too heavy, you can wear him like a backpack. It would also work to send out attacks while you're running away from something."

"Chase Young does not run from anything," Chase snapped.

"Of course not; you just popped in because you enjoy my company so much." Jack snarked.

Chase had the decency to blush.

"What Shen-Gong-Wu do you possess?" He asked instead. As he spoke, Chase shifted his grip on Jack-Bear. He slipped his arm through one of the shoulder straps while still holding the devious creation in front of him.

"Way to change the subject," Jack said, giving a few claps of mocking applause. "Right now I have the Lotus Twister and the Lasso Boaboa."

"The two most pointless Shen-Gong-Wu in existence?" Chase clarified.

"Those would be the ones."

"You shall need more." The dragon lord declared. "We must have at least the Tongue of SaiPing to be able to communicate with my warriors. And you will keep Wuya busy while I access the Fountain of Wii to see how to reverse this spell."

"Me? Tangle with Wuya?" Jack echoed, red eyes going wide.

"This is why you need more Wu. And better Wu." Chase looked down at the back of Jack-Bear's head as he spoke, fiddling with the toy. He hoped Jack wouldn't throw Chase's earlier insistence that his help was unneeded back into his face. Chase had already eaten enough of his own words today.

"So you _need me_?!" Jack squealed, crouching down to Chase's level.

So much for that hope. Still, Jack wasn't gloating. The goth teen seemed completely delighted that the mighty Chase Young was depending on him. Unfortunately, he seemed to wish for it to be said directly.

Whatever fates were overseeing this farce seemed to think Chase had been humiliated enough for one sitting, however, as a shrill beeping noise interrupted.

"What is that?" Chase asked.

"My Shen-Gong-Wu detector." Jack answered, straightening. He peered at a device on his wrist that Chase had taken for a large watch. "It senses when Shen-Gong-Wu go active and tells me where they are."

"You built a machine that detects magic?" Chase echoed in disbelief.

"Sure. How did you think I was finding Wu after Wuya ran off?" Jack asked.

"I never considered it." Chase admitted.

"Okay, so I go find this Wu, we get some more, then we go kick Wuya's butt out of your crib. You wanna come with?" Jack paced about his lair, gathering JackBots and his own useless Shen-Gong-Wu.

"I'd rather my greatest enemies not see me in such a state," Chase admitted.

"Suit yourself." Jack consulted his detector once more. "It's not too far; I'll just use the helipack. See ya later, Chase! Be good!"

"You aren't amusing!" Chase countered as the youth rose into the air. Jack muttered something unintelligible as he headed out through his aerial exit, followed by a dozen or so JackBots.

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After Jack was gone, Chase wandered back up to the main house. He ate the meal brought to him by the JackBots, indulged in some stretching and yoga, practiced a kata, and then relaxed in all around boredom. Chase was still dragging around Jack-Bear. Strangely, it felt good to wrap his arm around something. It felt even better to know that something was a weapon. Sighing, Chase considered calling Spicer and see what was taking so flaming long.

The television was on in the room where Nana Spicer and Jack had their Friday night. Chase perked. Perhaps there was more of that chocolate milk in the refrigerator.

"Nana Spicer?" Chase called, entering the room. There was no reply Chase headed towards the sofa. "Nana?"

"Oh, so sorry, Chase." The door slammed shut behind him. Chase Young whirled to see Wuya leaning against the now closed door. "There's no Nana Spicer here, but maybe Auntie Wuya can keep you occupied."

"How did you know where to find me?!" Chase demanded, backing away.

"Oh please; you really were too powerful for your own good." Wuya sneered, stalking towards him. "Every Heylin knows that when you hit rock bottom, the one you turn to is Jack Spicer. He's the only person stupid enough to pair up with whatever garbage calls itself evil."

"Is that why he spent so much time in your company?" Chase retorted, trying to circle around towards the door.

"Touche, Chase. But then, I'm back in my normal body and you're three feet tall and hugging a teddy bear."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," Chase snapped. As Wuya lunged forward, he slipped his hand inside the flap on the sinister toy's head. "It's the Jack-Bear!"

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"So what's this new Wu?" Kimiko asked, picking her way through a bamboo jungle.

"It's the Bottle of Xian Pu. It allows the user to suck up vast amounts of liquid and store it in a bottle no bigger than a soda can," Dojo explained from his perch on Clay's hat. "Kind of like the Orb of Tornami in reverse."

"The Bottle of Xian Pu? Dojo, honestly, where do they get these names?" Raimundo asked.

"Hey, Dashi named the Wu fifteen hundred years ago in Classical Chinese. How did he know they would end up as bad puns?" The dragon protested.

"It just seems to happen a lot, is all I'm saying." Rai grumbled.

"Enough of this chatter-chitter!" Omi cried.

"'Chit-chat'" Clay corrected automatically.

"That too! We must find the Wu before some Heylin warrior appears."

"Come on, Omi; Hannibal Bean's the only one we have to worry about snatching Shen-Gong-Wu." Kimiko protested. "Chase hasn't let Wuya off of her leash to hunt Wu in ages and Spicer-well, when was the last time we actually had to worry if Jack Spicer showed up?"

"You can start worrying right now, baby!" A familiar voice cried. "Evil Boy Genius Jack Spicer is on the scene!"

Jack descended through the bamboo, the wind from his helipack sending loose leaves swirling around him like a visual cliché. A dozen JackBots followed their master.

"Don't call me 'baby', Spicer!" Kimiko snarled, cutting off Omi's usual challenge.

"Sorry, Kimi-chan! Maybe you'd prefer _non-chichi_?" Jack asked. He dropped out of his patented 'evil villain' stance to pat his chest while he mocked the Dragon of Fire in her native language.

"_Tii bii esu desu-"_ Kimiko spluttered, trying to return the favor.

"_Demo are totemo jozu na no yo!_" Jack howled, circling his hips suggestively. _"Ne?_"

"_Chikan_!" The Dragon of Fire turned crimson.

"Hey! Stick to disses we can all understand!" Raimundo yelled.

"That's right! An' no more o' that ass-wigglin' in front of a lady!" Clay snapped, stepping in front of the still-traumatized Kimiko.

"Clay! You said a swear!" Omi gasped.

"Speaking of swears, Kimiko, thanks for not using '_okama'_; you've got to be the first _nihon-jin_ I ever got into a screaming match with that didn't call me a fag." Jack said lightly.

"'Okama' means 'fag'," Raimundo muttered to himself, scribbling in a small notebook. "What was the first one you called her? 'No-chichi'? Y'know, in Spanish that means-"

"Raimundo! Don't you even go there!" Kimiko screamed, smoke starting to rise from the ends of her hair.

"Yeah, yeah, this is all fascinating," Jack said, rolling his eyes. "But this . . . 'Bottle of Xian Pu'? Who comes up with these names?"

"See?!" Rai interjected.

"Okay, insert-clever-banter-here; this wu is mine. JackBots-"

"_JAAAAAAAAAACCCKK!_"

The piercing shriek echoed through the bamboo. For a moment everything stopped. A small sound, almost a sob, seemed to emanate from the goth genius's hip. Jack shoved his trench coat up to reveal a cell phone strapped to his belt, the call automatically patched through.

"Man I'm glad I didn't have my Blue Tooth on," He muttered to no one in particular.

"Wuya's here!" The speaker was obviously a small child, sex indeterminable. "I used Jack-Bear, but she's still coming!!" The sound of an explosion echoed through the small speaker. "She's destroying the JackBots! I'm in the Lair but I-" The sentence was cut off in a brief scream of pain and fear.

Jack snatched the phone from it's holder, all thoughts of multi-lingual insults and Shen-Gong-Wu gone.

"Our Chase?! Hold on; I'm coming!" The albino teen looked over at the Xiaolin warriors. "I gotta go."

The rotors shot out of Jack's helipack. Without a backwards glance, the evil genius took to the sky, the JackBots still tagging along behind him.

"Okay . . . . that was weird." Dojo muttered.

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Translation Key:

First of all, if I butchered the Japanese, just let me know. I'm still new to the language and I don't have all the nuances of grammar down yet.

_Non-chichi:_ Flat-chested used almost exclusively by high school girls. It has a very catty intonation.

_Tii bii esu desu-: _This one's a little complicated. _Tii bii esu_ or T.B.S. Is a term for 'ugly' that can be used for guys or girls. In boy form it would be _**T**__otemo __**B**__usaiku na __**S**__honen – _totally unpleasant boy. This first half of the sentence roughly translates to 'You are one ugly bastard'

_Demo are totemo jozu na no yo_: 'But I've got mad skills where it counts!'

_Ne?:_ Y'know?

_Chikan: _Pervert, molester


	4. Within a Mile of What's Left of Home

Jack headed back for the Spicer estate, his helipack pushed to top speed. The young genius's body was nearly parallel to the ground as he tore for home.

Chase had screamed, _screamed,_ for him. No one had ever yelled for Jack in such a note of desperation; such hope that Jack would protect them. No one ever depended on him like that before. Nobody _needed_ him that way.

And the first time this had happened, not only was it Chase Young, but Jack _wasn't there_.

It tore at Jack. It broke his heart and pissed him off at the same time. He was sick with despair and livid with anger and it came out as a sudden, violent need to make someone other than himself feel pain.

Jack checked his GPS location. Shit; still so far away and Wuya was there now, trashing his lair and wanting to hurt Chase and- No, Wuya didn't want to hurt Chase.

She wanted to kill him.

Jack started swearing in every language he knew, even the ones that weren't good cursing languages. He spent quite a while on Russian and German.

The only RoboJack that was fully functioning was RJ 13 and in his case 'fully functioning' was pushing the term to the breaking point. His arms and legs all worked, but he had blown out one too many fuses and there was that little 'personal problem' of his.

'The things I think are funny when I'm bored.' Jack thought to himself. There was no helping it, though. Chase needed whatever help he could get. Ah, screw it.

"Attention all JackBots!" The goth teen snapped into his cell phone. It had a dedicated channel that he could broadcast commands to his robots. "Priority command: Immediate override of safety precaution Alpha! Password: Annihilatify! I repeat, deadly force is **authorized**. Protect Chase Young!"

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Thirty miles away, Wuya looked down at the JackBot that had been attempting to push her out of the door. There was a whirring noise and what looked suspiciously like the barrel of a machine gun emerged from the robot's body. It was aimed directly at the Heylin witch's stomach.

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"Priority command to RoboJack Unit 13: Immediate override of lock down protocol! Activation sequence initiated! Prepare to receive priority command. RJ 13, get your ass out there and get Chase Young to safety! If anything happens to him I'm uninstalling your favorite attachment and turning you into a CheerBot!"

RJ 13's eyes snapped open, the words of his creator still ringing through his central processor. The lock down chamber was hissing open slowly. RJ 13 had been banished to lock down several weeks previously for being naughty with the washing machine in the main house and had only escaped permanent reconfiguring because Master Jack thought it was kind of funny. RJ 13 did not want to become a CheerBot.

He'd never get any action that way.

The mechanical youth staggered out of the chamber, looking around desperately for the target he was supposed to protect. RJ 13 watched in shock as a JackBot spun across the lair to explode against a wall, laser cannon blazing the entire way. Master Jack had commanded a priority override of safety precaution Alpha? Things must be bad; he **had** to find Chase Young!

Now, if he could just recall who that was. . .

Maybe cannibalizing the fuses that allowed him to access his long-term memory storage hadn't been such a good idea after all. RJ 13 headed towards the sounds of fighting.

There was a squad of JackBots attacking . . . oh, what was her name? You know; **her**. Heylin witch-lady, used to be a ghost, abused eyeliner worse than Master Jack did? RJ 13 was _pretty sure_ she wasn't Chase Young.

A movement caught the robot's eye. RJ 13 thrust one arm behind an overturned work table and came out holding a little Chinese boy by his black hooded sweatshirt.

"Are you Chase Young?"

"Jack, you imbecile! What do you mean-" Chase cut off sharply. The arm holding him aloft was as rigid as steel. The face, while undeniably Spicer's, was unnaturally smooth and symmetrical. And most glaring of all, Jack Spicer did not have RJ 13 printed down his cheek just inside the dark slash of eyeliner.

"You are a robot."

"RoboJack Unit 13, unlucky for some!" RJ 13 introduced himself cheerfully. "If you are indeed, Chase Young, I have been given a priority command to protect you in accordance with the highest possible classification. If necessary, I will face total destruction to assure your escape."

"I am Chase Young." Chase stated clearly, casting an uneasy glance towards Wuya.

"Then let's get out of here," RJ 13 stated. The mechanical teen shifted his grip on Chase until the shrunken warlord was cradled safely in his arms. With a few leaps of inhuman magnitude, the robot carried Chase out of the lair and back into the main house.

"Master Jack even let me out of lock down to come and get you, so I know he holds you in the highest regard." RJ 13 said conversationally, dashing down a hallway towards the front door.

"Why were you in lock down?" Chase asked.

"Because the washing machine is a whore." The robot snapped.

Before the automaton could elaborate, or Chase could ask him not to, the floorboards under RJ 13's feet exploded upwards, sending the robot and his small charge flying.

Wuya climbed up out the ruined floorboards. The witch's dress was in rags and her dusky skin marred with countless laser burns. In short, Wuya looked neither happy nor in a reasonable frame of mind.

Chase scrambled back to his feet and flew down the corridor. RJ 13 turned to face the Heylin witch.

"I know you," Wuya growled. "You're the one they caught humping the washing machine!"

RJ 13's witty retort went unheard; something grabbed Chase by the neck and jerked him sideways hard enough to see stars. The shrunken warlord gagged, clawing at his throat.

"You all right, Our Chase?"

"N-Nana?"

Nana Spicer unhooked her cane from the hood of Chase's sweatshirt and made sure the door was locked. The room she had pulled him into – well, Chase had never seen one quite like it.

Possibly because he'd never been to a shrine to the Third Reich.

Nazi Party equipment, paraphernalia, and historical items littered the room. Uniforms and flags hung from every wall. Glass cases holding everything from German SS medals to antique pistols to photographs cluttered the hardwood floor.

"That witch after you, Our Chase?" As always, the woman's lilting Irish accent made her sound as if she were inquiring after the antics of the local bully. The well-polished Luger handgun in one frail-looking hand upped the ante.

Chase nodded, massaging his throat.

"We'll see about that."

Just as the dragon lord's hopes arose, RJ 13 came through the door. Rather, most of RJ 13 came through the door. His head and his left arm seemed to be missing.

"Listen, all I said . . . all I'm _saying_ is, if you're that desperate for a kid, I know a better way to get one." RJ 13's voice floated through the ragged hole in the door. The robot was trying to sound suave.

"All right; One: You're a machine. Two: I'm not that hard up. Three: Once I kill Chase, I'll be the most powerful Heylin warrior in the world! I'll be able to have any man I want, thank you." Wuya staggered through the ruined door, RJ 13's head tucked under one arm.

Nana Spicer brought her weapon up, but Wuya hurled RJ 13's head with startling accuracy, striking the older woman's hand. The gun discharged into the ceiling.

"See, Chase? This is the problem with depending on Jack Spicer. You go to him for protection and he leaves you with an old woman, a perverted robot, and a weaponized teddy bear. How utterly useless!" The Heylin witch began a sinister stalk towards the shrunken warlord. Chase backed away, hoping to find some cover amid the glass cases and proud displays of evil.

Part of him was incensed with Jack Spicer for failing so miserably. Another part of him realized that without magic and Shen-Gong-Wu and supernatural strength, there was very little that could be done against Wuya. Jack went up against her, or Bean, or the monks or Chase himself every day with nothing but his robots and his wits. And he didn't even let his robots use deadly force!

Was the boy completely mad?

"Come here, now, Chase. If you're a very good boy, I'll make it quick and painless." Wuya purred. RJ 13's body grabbed at her, but with only one arm and no eyes to see with, he was tossed aside like so much garbage.

Chase turned and ran. Wuya was between him and the exit, but perhaps he could make it out of a window; they were on the first floor, after all. The miniaturized dragon heard Wuya's heavy footsteps behind him, heard Nana Spicer swearing in some flowing, lyrical language, heard RJ 13's head calling for his body.

But it was what he saw that made him duck under the windowsill and curl up tight.

Jack Spicer came through the window glass, arms crossed to protect his face. The pale youth landed heavily between Chase and Wuya.

"Not on my watch, Wuya!" Jack snarled, snapping his fingers.

The dozen JackBots that had accompanied Jack on the hunt for Shen-Gong-Wu poured into the room, laser cannons ready for use. Jack didn't wait around for the fireworks to start. He grabbed Chase by the back of the sweatshirt and tucked him under one arm. His main concern accounted for, the evil genius dashed for Nana Spicer, who was cradling her right hand with a pained expression on her face.

"Come on, Nana! We've got to get out of here before-"

"Thorn of Thunderbolt!" Electricity crackled through the air, causing the JackBots to burn out and explode.

"And me without my Tesla coil," Jack said weakly.

"What the hell's going on, Our Jackie?!" Nana Spicer demanded.

"No time, Nana!" Jack cried, shoving Chase into the woman's arms. "Just go b-"

Jack had no time to finish the word before he was grabbed and hurled carelessly away from the door. The albino teenager landed on something hard and sharp. As the surface gave way by breaking into a thousand painful shards, Jack realized he had been thrown onto one of the display cases. He felt broken glass slice through his clothes and dig into his sensitive skin. Jack rolled onto all fours, trying not to let his ungloved fingers touch the piles of glass.

Wuya was advancing on Nana Spicer and Chase Young, the Thorn of Thunderbolt Shen-Gong-Wu held out threateningly. Nana Spicer looked around desperately, trying to find an escape route. Jack almost laughed at the idea; an eighty-year-old injured woman carrying a little boy trying to outrun a supernatural Heylin witch.

Chase didn't look for an escape. He stared straight at Wuya. In his golden eyes was a knowledge of his own immanent death that was _obscene_ in a child so young. Jack had failed him. He had failed them both.

Chase had screamed, _screamed,_ for him.

The heartbroken, pissed off feeling rose up in Jack once more. The youth was scared, terrified, but for once the feeling goaded him into action. Conflicting emotions warring in his chest, Jack groped among the broken glass for something, _anything_ that could be used as a weapon.

Chase's eyes slid sideways to the pale youth. There was the tiniest glimmer of hope in his expression.

Jack's hand closed around the handle of an SS officer's dress sword.

"You stay away from them, Wuya!" He howled, rushing forward.

Jack knew what he had in his hand; a sixty-year-old ornament made in the shape of a weapon that had been gathering dust for the last fifty years. The damn thing had probably never even been sharpened. He knew all that. He also knew it was a long piece of metal that he could whack Wuya's arm with and maybe, if he was supremely lucky, get her to drop the Thorn of Thunderbolt.

Which was why he was so surprised when the blade sheared neatly through the witch's arm.

Jack's jaw dropped as Wuya's severed arm, still clutching the Shen-Gong-Wu, hit the floorboards with a sickeningly wet 'plop'.

Wuya stared. Jack stared. It would have been hard to decide which one was more shocked.

The Heylin witch slowly raised her arm to gawk at the limb, now neatly severed just below the elbow. The wound was gushing blood in a torrent as the arteries hadn't figured out what had hit them yet. Jack marvelled at how much blood could come out of such a skinny arm.

"Oh . . ." Jack wanted to apologize. Then the heartbroken, pissed feeling kicked him in the ass and reminded him that this mystical _bint_ had just tried to murder Nana Spicer and Chase. In fact, once she got over the initial shock, she was sure to murder Jack as well. It was too late to apologize. It was too late for compromises. There was only one way to go and that was forward.

The albino youth brought the sword up sharply and drove it into Wuya's chest. The witch screamed, recoiling in pain. Jack pushed forward, driving her backwards until her back hit the wall. At this point the teenager realized that only the tip of the sword had punctured Wuya's body. Jack, in his inexperience, had held the blade vertically. The width of the sword had actually caught on Wuya's ribs and prevented any serious damage. Jack leaned his weight on the pommel in an attempt to drive the blade deeper.

This only elicited a louder scream from Wuya.

"Sh-Shut up!" Jack yelled. He was still terrified. How could you be this scared when you were actively trying to kill someone? Was this all there was to emotion? Fear and pain and selfishness? Fine. Jack could deal with that. Fear had driven him to attack Wuya; he could turn these things into weapons.

"You come into _my_ house and attack _my_ granny and _my_ Chase and break _my_ robots?! H-How dare you! How dare you touch these things!! _They are mine!!" _Jack screamed. "Get out! Get out and never come here again! If you ever come near my house again I'll kill you where you stand!"

Wuya just stared. She had half-expected a fight from Chase, even in his toddler form. Getting maimed by Jack Spicer was like getting mauled by a sheep; you never saw it coming.

But still . . . . blood red eyes burned with hatred. Teeth were bared in a snarl as if he was going for her throat next. The gleaming silver sword, charmingly decorated with eagles and swastikas, almost matched Jack's abnormally pale skin.

Jack jerked the blade back so Wuya could get the hell out of his house.

The witch sagged, leaning heavily against the wall as she stared up at the boy . . . . no, the young _man_ who glowered down at her.

Jack backed away slowly. His heel hit Wuya's severed arm and he kicked the limb towards her distainfully. The Heylin witch collected her lost body part and dragged herself to the ruined window.

"L-Longi Kite," she said weakly, holding out the appropriate Shen-Gong-Wu. Moments later, she was sailing back towards Chase's mountain keep.

Jack sagged as if his strings had been cut. Nana Spicer and Chase were staring at him as if he'd grown another head.

"Are – are you guys all right?" He asked, feeling like he'd been twisted up and wrung out.

"Just a few smacks, Our Jackie," Nana said, lowering Chase to the floor. She looked around the ruined room, then back to her grandson. "I'll get the first aid kit. Come on down to the kitchen and we'll get patched up."

She left Jack and Chase alone. The pair considered each other for a minute.

"The JackBear didn't work, huh?" Jack said. "I'm sorry. Maybe I'll put a force field generator in the next one."

"It held her off for long enough," Chase answered. "As did RJ 13. At least, until the real Jack could arrive to handle things. You won the day, Jack Spicer."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did." The albino teen answered quietly. He paused for a moment. "I'm shaking."

"I can see that," Chase announced. The pale youth was trembling so fiercely it was a wonder he was still standing. "Come; we'll get to the kitchen and you can rest."

The shrunken warlord went to Jack's side, bracing one unresisting hand on his own shoulder. The other still tightly gripped the dress sword.

"If I won, why do I feel like I'm about to puke my guts up?" The youth asked. He allowed Chase to steer him down the hallway. In fact, Jack didn't look like he was up for protesting much of anything.

"It's your first taste of bloodshed; it always takes people that way. Don't fret; you did well."

Jack nodded weakly, settling down on a stool. He grimaced weakly. A faint blush raced across his cheeks.

"Ch-Chase, I think I wet my pants." He said in a tiny voice.

"No, I cannot smell it." Chase frowned, sniffing lightly.

"My pants are wet," Jack protested.

"Oh, that's just the blood," The dragon lord said in a voice that was meant to be reassuring.

"B-blood?! Who's blood? My blood?!" Jack squawked.

"Ye-es. You landed on that glass case. Your back is sliced to ribbons, Spicer." Chase Young said, giving the shaken youth a bemused look. "You really didn't notice? Your veins must be pumping pure adrenalin right now!"

Jack studied his soaking trousers in shock, which doubled when he saw the faint bootprints in blood that marked his trail into the kitchen. A wave of dizziness hit him. Between the attack, the maiming, and now his own injuries, it was all too much. Red eyes rolled back in their sockets and Jack collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

Chase Young sighed, looking down at the unconscious youth.

"My hero." He growled sarcastically.


	5. Milk and Blood

Wuya screamed profanities in a language so ancient it possessed slang for 'woolly mammoth'. The jungle cats prowling Chase's mountain palace watched dispassionately as the Heylin witch bandaged her severed limb. The conquered warriors didn't question her presence in the keep, but neither did they move to help her. Wuya was there on Chase's whim until the dragon lord said otherwise.

Fortunately or un, however you chose to look at it, Wuya's powers remained sealed. If she had her magic at hand, these fur balls would be skins decorating the floor, Chase would be nothing but a memory, and the Spicer estate, along with its inhabitants, would be a smoking hole in the ground. But Wuya did still know some spells and potions. At the moment she was fumbling through her personal supernatural pharmacy looking for the regeneration salve; a mystical cream that would allow her arm to reattach to the rest of her body within a few days.

Locating the jar, Wuya staggered to her bed. Balancing the severed limb between her thighs, the Heylin witch smeared a healthy dose of the salve on the wound, then ripped the bandage off of her arm. Wuya keened sharply between gritted teeth until the pain faded slightly. Through supreme force of will, the witch fitted the two ends of her arm together and started to wrap a fresh bandage around the wound.

She was lucky Jack had been good enough to return her arm. It would have taken weeks for the limb to re-grow entirely. Jack Spicer . . . maybe she wouldn't kill him when she razed his house to the ground. Maybe this time she would make sure he was securely restrained, then make him watch while she butchered his family. She'd chop up miniature Chase's soft toddler body and make it into a stew for Spicer to eat. She'd keep the albino youth alive for months while she tortured his soft flesh.

Red eyes blazing with hatred.

Teeth bared in ferocity.

White skin that shone like moonlight.

Wuya shook her head as the pain in her arm faded to something manageable. The manticore scale pills she had swallowed before fixing her severed limb probably had something to do with that. Gingerly, the witch laid back down on her bed, laying her arm out flat so that the healing could begin.

Fair skin or not, she'd make Jack Spicer regret ever being born for this. She'd . . . she'd get revenge . . . Wuya's eyelids started to droop as the supernatural painkillers kicked in. She'd break his fingers one by one . . .

Surprisingly strong hands with long, slender fingers; artist's hands.

She'd been surprised by the size and strength of them during the hunt for the Treasure of the Blind Swordsman. It had been the first time she'd truly interacted with Jack since returning to flesh. The youth had often put his hands on her to help her in or out of the train or mount her horse. Spicer was surprisingly gentlemanly in that fashion.

Wuya shook her head again. No, gentleman or not, Spicer still had to suffer a slow, agonizing death for what he had done to her. She'd . . . . she'd break his legs and leave him to crawl and scream. . .

Jack staring imperiously down at her as she cringed in pain.

When had the youth gotten so tall? When Wuya had first met him as a ghost, he seemed like nothing more than a little boy with a snotty attitude. Wuya had ignored his physical presence in favor of Chase's uber masculinity, but Jack had grown a lot since she'd met him. How old was he now? Seventeen? Eighteen? No, seventeen; it had been three years since they had met and Jack was fourteen then.

_Blazing_ red eyes.

In Wuya's youth, that white skin and red hair would have marked the lad as royalty. As red and as white as milk and blood . . . . that was the phrase people had used to wax poetic about a young man's beauty. Milk and blood . . . . Wuya had never seen anyone who fit the description better than Jack Spicer. The witch had simply never realized it because Jack's personality always got in the way.

Maybe she could find another use for him after she killed Chase. Wuya's eyes drifted close as chemical bliss flooded her body.

Milk and blood . . .

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Chase Young was filled with fear. The same aftereffects of Wuya's attack that he had gentled Spicer through were ripping through his small body. The dragon lord huddled down in the guest bed RJ 13 had readied for him, fighting the urge to pull the covers over his head.

After Jack's spectacular faint, Nana Spicer had returned with the first aid kit, needle and thread, and RJ 13 in tow. The robot had already snapped his head back into place and was trying to fit his left arm back into it's socket.

Sometime later the automaton had explained that the RoboJacks were designed so that their limbs and heads separated rather easily from their torsos; the complicated limbs were time-consuming to build from scratch, so Jack had given them a break away failsafe and universal socket joints so that one scrapped RoboJack could donate his working parts to his compatriots. It also meant that a RoboJack unit broken down into several pieces could simply pop his limbs back on if they hadn't been damaged too badly.

Nana Spicer had taken in her grandson sprawled across the kitchen floor, sighed, then bandaged her own hand. Once she was satisfied with the result, she had instructed RJ 13 to take off Jack's clothes and lay the youth out on the table.

In the light of day, Spicer's injuries hadn't been that bad. The teenager's helipack had protected the muscles across his upper back and the thick layers of leather and denim below his waist had deflected all but a few shards of glass. Only a small area above his belt and below his helipack had the protection of nothing but Jack's leather coat. Nana Spicer cleaned the injuries, dousing them liberally in whiskey before picking out the glass. The old woman stitched the gashes with practiced ease. As she smeared a strong-smelling salve on the stitches and bandaged the injuries, Nana Spicer growled out orders to RJ 13 to take Jack up to bed, then begin repairs to the Third Reich room. She had invited Chase to join her for some post traumatic drinking, but the dragon lord had begged off, pleading for a hot bath instead. When he emerged, RJ 13 had finished up his repairs with the help of the few remaining JackBots. One of them served the shrunken overlord a hot meal and showed Chase to a freshly made up guest room just down the hall from Jack's room.

Here now, alone in the darkness, the fear rushed up to seize Chase Young. This was strange; Chase had lived through centuries of bloodshed. He was immune to the horrors by now. Indeed, it seemed as if one part of his mind retained the cool calm he worked carefully to maintain, while a completely different part trembled in terror. Unfortunately, it was quite a large different part. His thoughts were strangely doubled and disjointed.

'This will set my plans back a few days, but fortunately Wuya won't be in any shape to mount an attack either.// _I'm scared! Wuya will get me!_' Frowning, Chase shifted his grip on JackBear, now reloaded and ready for action. The coherent part of him wished for a weapon. The frightened part wanted something to hold.

'Jack is injured as well, but it is not serious. He should be up and about in short order. Then he can make himself useful by serving me once more.// _Jack saved me! He came in swinging his sword and drove the bad witch away! Jack was amazing!_' Chase shook his head sharply. The only amazing thing about Spicer was that he had finally managed to do something right.

'Shut up and let me rest!//_I'm scared the witch will come back! I don't want to be alone. I want to be with Jack; he'll protect me.'_ The shrunken dragon lord snarled, burying his face in the pillow. This was infuriating; it felt as if some pathetic stranger had taken up residence inside his skull. It wouldn't be half as annoying if the voice wasn't so child . . . ish . . .

Chase Young sat up slowly, a horrible suspicion taking shape in his mind.

'_It's too dark in here! I want a night light!'_

Chase remained still, staring out into the dark room. He tried to will himself to become accustomed to the darkness, but the other part of his mind still clamored protests. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Golden eyes flicked to the window, apprehension written in every rod and cone. When Chase was a child-the first time, that is-he had been terribly frightened of thunderstorms.

'Don't even think about it.' He snarled to the other part of his mind. 'You are Chase Young; you command thunder and lightning.'

'_Meep._' Went the other Chase.

A loud crack shook the house. To Chase's horror, his body was out of bed and running towards the door before he could do anything about it. He was out in the hallway before he got control of the fear and his hand was reaching for the doorknob of Jack's room just as Chase brought himself to an abrupt halt.

No. Just no. Absolutely not. It was his second day as a child and he was not climbing into bed with Jack Spicer. If he could not sleep, then he would walk around the house until the storm passed. Or . . . watch a movie! Yes, he could finish that amusingly violent movie Jack and Nana Spicer had started watching the night before! This decided, Chase pattered quickly down the hallways to the TV room he had been in the night before.

JackBear still clutched to his chest, Chase pulled the door open and stopped in his tracks yet again.

RJ 13 was busy with the television.

He wasn't watching it, though.

'_Why's he making those funny noises?_' the other Chase wanted to know.

Chase paused. He knew what the robot was doing, but he was at a loss to understand how he was doing it.

RJ 13 had pulled a cable out of a small port right behind his right ear and inserted it into one of the plugs in the front of the television meant for hooking up gaming consoles. From what Chase could see, that all there was to it. However, RJ 13 seemed far too ecstatic for this to be everything; the mechanical teenager sprawled across the floor in front of the big screen TV, panting and gasping as if . . . well, as if he were plugged into a Cheerbot at the very least.

At least the washing machine Chase could understand; there was the whole spin cycle vibration aspect.

How did one go about screwing a TV?

RJ 13 arched up off of the floor, his face set in a look of sweet torture, his voice high and thin, but carefully quiet. There was a sharp cracking noise that made Chase flinch and the RoboJack collapsed limply on the floor.

"W-wow," he panted, huge smile on his face.

'Why is he out of breath?' Chase wondered. 'He doesn't even need to breathe.'

Still leaning heavily against his electronic lover, RJ 13 opened his coat and pulled up his T-shirt. His pectorals swung open like cabinet doors. Chase couldn't help noticing he had a decal of a winged heart with 'Lucky 13' in it pasted on the left one. The robot fiddled around inside his chest cavity for a minute, then dropped a blown fuse onto the floor.

"You were even better than the battery charger in Master's lair," RJ 13 announced. The mechanical teenager reached into one pocket of his jeans and produced a new fuse. "Hope you're ready for round two! What?" The android paused as if listening. "Oh, the DVD player thinks I'm hot?"

At this point Chase fled the room.

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The Other Chase whimpered quietly to himself as the dragon-turned-toddler roamed the house. Despite her assurances that she would be somewhere close drinking like a mad idiot, Nana Spicer seemed to have disappeared into the mansion. The storm was rolling through unchallenged and Chase had to fight to keep from fleeing to Jack's room.

_'I want to be with Jack! Jack will protect me!' _The child-mind cried.

'It's only thunder. It can't hurt me.' Chase reminded himself. 'Jack's still sleeping anyway; Nana gave him something to keep him under through the night.'

A particularly loud crack of thunder cannoned Other Chase into the driver's seat and the mighty Chase Young, eternal Prince of Darkness, found himself curled up around JackBear, crying piteously.

"I want Jack!" Chase straightened abruptly, slapping one hand over his mouth. That had been out loud. Someone might have heard that. Wuya had implied that Spicer had an open-door policy when it came to evil team ups; what if Katnappe or Tubbimura or that Russian with the bad teeth happened by? Chase could feel the other him bracing for a new run at control.

"I'm going! I'm going to Jack now!" He yelled to himself.

This seemed to placate his other self. Chase hurried back down the hallway towards Jack's room. The teenager didn't stir as the miniature warlord entered. This wouldn't be too bad; Spicer was still unconscious. Surely Chase could wake up before the evil youth in the morning and be gone before he was noticed.

Shoving JackBear up onto the bed before him, Chase clambered up with difficulty. Jack, laid carefully on his stomach by his perverted robot minion, never even twitched as Chase snuggled down beside him. JackBear was tucked in between the two boys. Chase caught himself just as he was about to stick his thumb in his mouth. Blushing hotly even though no one had seen him, the dragon lord settled for laying that hand on Jack's bare shoulder.

"Es ist nicht der affe," the albino youth muttered. "Ist die harfe."

Chase blinked, snatching his hand back.

"Sie habe das geld nicht, kleiner schlingel? Machen sie den mund weit auf." Jack continued.

Chase chuckled as he realized the teen was talking in his sleep. He hadn't even realized Jack knew German, but, considering his family history, it wasn't much of a stretch. Ah well; at least the other Chase had quieted down. The shrunken overlord returned his hand to Jack's shoulder.

"Parece que la fiesta esta muy animada."

One black eyebrow arched up. Spanish as well?

"Las tenazas tiene nauseas."

Chase lifted his hand, then brought it back to Spicer's skin again.

"Fileh choobi ra zud zado mikhord."

Persian? Who would have guessed? Chase tapped the shoulder again.

"Ringo arimasu ka? Ichi-ji-kan-de shimasu."

Japanese. The dragon lord giggled as he poked Jack in the shoulder. It was like changing the radio station.

"I can't make a robot out of chocolate."

Giggle, tap.

"Go mbeirimid beo ar an am seo aris."

Chase paused. What was this one? It sounded vaguely familiar.

"As ucht De bailigh leat! Bas na bpisin chugat."

Chase knew he had heard it before, but where? It was very lyrical and flowing. Nana Spicer had cursed in the same language during Wuya's attack. But Chase had heard it before then . . . . . . oh yes; the language of the elves! It later became the basis for the Gaelic language. Spicer was speaking Irish Gaelic.

Chase had always thought that was a beautiful language. Very poetic.

"Seo slaint mhinic-a-thig,

Agus seo slainte minic-nach-dtig."

Chase Young sighed, settling down against the pillows as Jack Spicer whispered poetry in the language of the elves. His golden eyes began to drift close.

"Is trua nach dtig minic-nach-dtig,

Leath chomh minic le minic-a-thig."

He barely noticed when he stuck his thumb in his mouth.

"Mo gra thu!"

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Translation Key:

Wee, the Leonine Crimson One gets to show what a language geek she is. Before any fellow linguists out there can tell me the translations don't make any sense, of course they don't; Jack is talking in his sleep. Since when do sleep-talkers make any sense?

"_Es ist nicht der affe, ist die harfe." _"That's not a monkey, it's a harp."

"_Sie habe das geld nicht, kleiner schlingel? Machen sie den mund weit auf."_ "You don't have the money, you little rascal? Open your mouth very wide."

"_Parece que la fiesta esta muy animada."_ "This looks like a pretty wild party."

"_Las tenazas tiene nauseas."_ "The curling iron is nauseous." (RJ 13 probably got it pregnant.)

"_Fileh choobi ra zud zado mikhord." _"The wooden elephant is going to crash soon."

"_Ringo arimasu ka? Ichi-ji-kan-de shimasu."_ "Do you have an apple? I'm going to do it within the hour."

"_Go mbeirimid beo ar an am seo aris." _"May we all be alive this time next year."

"_As ucht De bailigh leat! Bas na bpisin chugat." _"For God's sake, leave me alone! A kitten's death to you."

"_Seo slaint mhinic-a-thig,_

_Agus seo slainte minic-nach-dtig."_

"Health to often-comes,

And health to seldom-comes."

"_Is trua nach dtig minic-nach-dtig,_

_Leath chomh minic le minic-a-thig."_

"A pity that seldom-comes,

Does not come half as often as often-comes."

"_Mo gra thu!" _"My love to you!"

And this isn't really a translation, per se, but the 'red and white as milk and blood' phrase I actually found in a book of fairy tales I had as a child. I think it came from the story 'East of the Sun and West of the Moon' and was used to describe the hero. I've never forgotten it.


	6. Rumor Has It

The monk's _did_ have to Showdown for the Bottle of Xian Pu, but it was against Katnappe, not Jack Spicer. However, the cat burglar did hear the monks talking about Jack's odd exit. What really caught her ear was Raimundo's suggestion that Jack had a child at home.

After suffering a humiliating defeat by the Dragon of Earth, who seemed to have gotten over his aversion to fighting girls, Katnappe headed to the Spicer estate to torment Jack and snoop. The cat-lover had been astonished to see Wuya limping away from the mansion, down one arm and her dignity.

None other than Jack Spicer stood in the ruined window watching the Heylin witch flee, with blood on his shining silver sword and murder in his cold red eyes.

Katnappe decided she didn't need to bother Jack just then.

Instead, she had gone to her own home and gotten on her computer. Within moments, the blonde ex-socialite was spreading the news on all the villain forums that Jack Spicer had just sent Wuya away missing a hand, all over a kid.

Supposedly, it was his _own child._

Katnappe typed in that she didn't know that for sure, but she had heard Clay Bailey telling Kimiko Tohomiko that putting 'Our' in front of a name was an old English way of showing a family connection. Evidentially, Jack had called the kid 'Our Chase' and who else but Jack Spicer would name his kid after Chase Young?

Kimiko Tohomiko surfed through the web a few hours later and found a note on a warrior chat room that Jack Spicer had named his son after Chase Young.

She added her own two cents that the boy was living at the Spicer Estate, but she didn't know who or where the mother was. Also, Wuya had attacked the house and Jack had _abandoned_ a Shen-Gong-Wu to fly to his son's rescue.

Within moments, Vlad posted on the villain chat that Jack Spicer had gotten some girl pregnant a few years previously and the girl had just dumped his now toddler-aged son – named after Chase Young, no less – on the evil genius and promptly disappeared.

What's more, evidently Spicer was _far_ more ruthless in protecting his child than he had ever been in protecting himself. He had even sent Wuya away begging for her life and sans an arm.

By the time Raimundo got online and started snooping around, Jack Spicer had gathered a whole back story of betrayed love, a disgruntled girlfriend, a mostly neglected son, and now a new warrior's spirit that reared its head whenever his child was threatened.

The one sentence report of seeing Wuya flee missing an arm had exploded into an epic battle worthy of an Icelandic saga.

And Clay told Kimiko, who told Katnappe, who told Kimiko, who told Vlad, who told Tubbimura, who told Le Mime, who told Raimundo.

So you know it had to be true.

* * *

The first thing Jack realized when he awoke was that his back hurt very badly. He could feel the tight pull of skin and flesh that meant he had been given stitches. Probably Nana's handiwork; it wasn't the first time Jack had gone to his grandmother with injuries he didn't feel like explaining. Nana Spicer was good about that sort of thing, though. She had her own secrets; for all Jack knew, she was plotting to take over the world as well.

Heh, Nana Spicer, queen of the world.

The second thing Jack realized was that he was naked. Well, all right, he had needed stitches and considering where some of the injuries were, it might be wise to avoid pants for a few days. Nothing to get excited about.

The third thing Jack realized was that someone was holding his hand. That was new. The albino youth risked opening an eye.

Chase Young was in bed with him. The warlord-turned-toddler was cuddled up under the covers with him. One tiny hand had slipped under Jack's and was clinging to the middle finger. The thumb of the other hand was popped securely in Chase's mouth.

"Oh my god, that's adorable." Jack muttered under his breath.

Chase was awake instantly. His golden eyes didn't pop open or look startled, they simply went from closed to open and just like that, Chase was awake. The shrunken warlord studied Jack's eyes. Then his gaze shifted to the hand that was clinging to Jack's finger, then finally to the one in his mouth.

Jack looked hard for an embarrassed blush, but he couldn't see one.

Chase removed his thumb from his mouth coolly, as if he did it every morning.

"Good morning, Spicer." He greeted the young evil genius calmly.

"Morning, Chase."

"Feeling better?"

"A bit; now my back hurts."

"Well, that's to be expected."

"I guess it is."

"Mmm."

Chase's hand was still grasping Jack's finger. Neither one made a move to change this. Jack was just waiting for Chase to snatch his hand away in abject humiliation, and Chase wasn't going to give Jack the satisfaction.

"Do you know what RJ 13 _does_ when you're asleep?" Chase inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Does it involve the washing machine?" Jack asked, wondering just how long Chase could keep this up.

"No."

"Was it the vacuum cleaner again?"

"No," Chase growled, making a disgusted face. "Let's just say, I hope your television doesn't catch anything."

"The TV?" Jack gave a puzzled frown. "How did he-?"

"I don't know. He was plugged into it and looked far too happy to simply be accessing programs." Chase returned. He was still a bit curious about that, but not enough to ask.

"Hmm. That's interesting."

"So you say."

The pair stared at each other for a few moments, then Jack let an evil grin spread across his face.

"Y'know, I fantasized about waking up naked next to you plenty of times, but this doesn't quite live up to my dreams."

Chase's arm twitched. He wanted to pull away badly, but the shit-eating grin on Jack's face was forcing him stand his ground. Instead, Chase threw Jack his darkest glare.

"That is _far_ more information than I ever wished to have, Spicer."

"Hey, that's a compliment; 1,500-years-old and you're still fantasy fodder. You should be flattered."

"It is truly difficult to take any flirtation seriously given my current state."

"True. Plus it just feels _wrong_." Groaning, Jack let go of Chase's hand and rolled out of bed with glacial slowness. "We can't _all_ be pedophiles." The albino youth dragged the sheet off of the bed and tied it loosely about his waist.

"I beg your pardon." Chase snapped, sitting up sharply.

Jack ignored him, taking a leisurely hobble to the bathroom.

"What exactly were you implying by that statement?!" The shrunken warlord demanded, following Jack.

"I'm not implying anything!" Jack called out as he ran water into the sink. The pale youth splashed water up over his face and neck. "I'm _inferring_ that you have an unhealthy attraction to a certain Twinkie-colored monk."

Jack dried his face and looked over one shoulder. Chase was standing on the trailing edge of his sheet and glaring death up at the young man.

"See, if I said 'We can't all be magical, shape-shifting, half dragon, evil mastermind pedophiles', **that **would be implying." Jack retorted.

"You are a fool, Jack Spicer!" Chase snarled. "My interest in Omi strictly concerns a merger of power and the corruption of good! It has nothing to do with sick sexual practices."

"I've heard the way you talk to him. 'That's how it all starts, Omi'" Jack quoted, trying to ape Chase's normal mellow voice. "'A little bad here, a little lie there, a little touchy, a little feely, maybe a back rub and the next thing you know, you're playing 'Hide the Sausage' dressed like a geisha. That is true eeeevil.'"

"You. Insignificant. Idiot. I-"

"In retrospect, I guess that's why I wasn't good enough for you; I was already too big and had icky hairs." Jack sighed. He rubbed a thoughtful hand across his chin. "Speaking of which:"

"Spicer, you aren't good enough to work with me because you are a weak-willed fool and an imbecile besides! I am not now, nor have I ever, nor _will_ I ever be sexually attracted to children!" Chase snarled, venom dripping from his tone. The dragon toddler paused to stomp around to Jack's side, so the youth would see him.

Jack was laying out shaving implements. Chase opened his mouth to heap another mouthful of abuse on the albino.

"What are you doing?"

For a moment, Chase actually wondered who had spoken. Then he realized it had been him. Jack gave him an odd look.

"I'm . . . getting ready to shave," The young genius answered, a bit puzzled by the random question. "Don't you shave?"

Chase felt someone shake his head back and forth.

"Really? Like, not ever?" Spicer seemed truly surprised by this.

Another shake. Chase floundered inside his own mind, trying to find the thread of control. Where was it? How had he lost it so easily?!

Little Chase climbed up on the toilet seat so he had a better view of the proceedings. Jack was giving him a suspicious look.

'Please,' Chase begged whatever gods might be listening. 'Don't let this fool realize what's happening to me.'

"What's that?" Little Chase asked, pointing to a small chrome machine that was humming away on the counter. At least he hadn't asked what the razor was, Chase thought.

"It's a hot lather machine. It heats up the shaving cream so it's . . um . . hot. It makes it easier to shave."

"Oh." Little Chase crossed his arms on the counter and set his chin down on them, clearly all set to watch the show of Jack shaving.

Jack fixed the shrunken warlord with a look of pure confusion. The lather machine chimed. Still eyeing Chase suspiciously, Spicer turned to his chore. Little Chase watched in rapt fascination as Jack Spicer carefully shaved his face while Real Chase raged inside of his own skull, trying desperately to unseat Little Chase's control.

'This is what big boys do.' Chase nearly shuddered at the innocence of the thought his alter-ego produced.

"Hey, you want to do me a huge favor?" Jack asked, patting his face dry with a towel.

"Sure!" Little Chase piped up immediately.

Jack blinked at him like the child had grown another head. Real Chase cringed.

"O-kay, uh, there's a flat box under my bed with a kimono in it. Could you bring it here? I don't want to wear anything with a waistband over my stitches."

"Okay!" Little Chase jumped off the toilet and ran back into Jack's bedroom, diving under the bed and rooting around with gusto.

Jack continued to stare. What in the world had gotten into Chase? One minute he was screaming at Jack, the next he was acting like . . . .a . . . little kid. . . Oh, no way.

"Is it this black one that says 'Kyoto's finest' on top?"

"Yeah." Jack fixed the suddenly helpful warlord with a sideways look.

Chase backed out from under the bed, dragging a flat box. Once out in the open, he flipped the lid off and grabbed two handfuls of cloth. Heedless of the way he was treating the fine silk, Chase started back towards Jack, dragging the formal kimono along the ground. A few feet away from the albino youth, Chase suddenly stopped. He blinked a few times as if he wasn't sure how he had come to be in such a position.

"Chase?" Jack's look had gone from suspicious, to confused, to concerned.

"Here's your wretched kimono! Now get out of the bathroom so that I can bathe!" Chase snarled, flinging the garment at Jack's feet. Not satisfied with the speed of Jack's compliance, the shrunken warlord got behind Jack and shoved him into the bedroom.

"All right, all right; geez, PMS much?" Jack grumbled.

Bending over gingerly, the teenager retrieved the black silk kimono from the floor, then shuffled sideways to the box and picked up the silver and black obi so he wouldn't have to bend over twice. Every muscle between his knees and his shoulder blades squealed in agony as he straightened. Jack did likewise.

With a sigh, the ablino youth put on the black kimono, carefully tying the obi in the funny knot he had learned years ago in Kyoto. The garment was merciful to his tender stitches, but a great deal shorter than he remembered.

"Or maybe – shock – I've grown some." Jack murmured to himself.

Okay, so he was walking wounded and Chase was developing a split personality. It could be worse. At least he still had all his arms and legs. A wave of nausea roiled through him as he remembered the fight with Wuya.

Wow. He had beat Wuya.

Him.

Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius.

Although . . . . maybe he should drop the 'Boy' part, Jack reflected, rubbing his freshly-shaved chin. When he had first met Wuya and the monks, shaving had been something he'd had to do once every two weeks or so, and even then, he had barely had peach fuzz. Now if he didn't shave at least every three days, he looked like Dr. House.

Plus he turned eighteen in a few months.

Jack left his room when he heard the shower start. He carefully headed down to the kitchen, trying not to move too much. Man . . . who knew a fight resulting in life-altering damage could make you so hungry? He'd have one of the JackBots make waffles. And maybe some sausage. Then he could have sausage links with maple syrup drizzled over the top of them. Oh, yeah, that sounded good.

Jack pushed open the kitchen door.

He barely had time to let out a startled shout before something crashed into his chest with the force of a sledgehammer.


	7. Father of Mine

Chase had just reached the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed, when Jack's cries rang through the house. The shrunken lord froze, one hand ready to push open the swinging door into the kitchen.

'_Wuya's back!_' Little Chase thought instantly.

For a moment Real Chase was inclined to agree, but a deep male voice rattled through the wood like the crack of doom.

"Why the hell are you wearing a dress?! There had better be a non-gay answer!"

"I have stitches!" Jack shrilled in answer. "I . . . fell of a ladder and landed on some metal! I didn't want to wear anything with a waistband!"

"I got a _call_." The tone of the voice implied that this was an insult not to be borne. "There was a vast amount of damage done to the Reich Room and Mum is **hurt**."

"It -uh – she-she asked me to hang a flag! But I fell off the ladder and landed on one of the display cases! And – uh – the ladder hit her when it fell!"

There was a long, heavy pause.

"D-didn't the JackBots fix it?" Jack quavered.

Chase would never know exactly what the answer was, because at that moment the kitchen door flew open and slammed into Chase with enough force to fling the dragon lord several feet. The movement mimicked Jack's, who had been flung through the door to sprawl on the hardwood several feet beyond, whimpering in pain from his strained stitches.

Little Chase took control long enough to start up a wail, but Real Chase quickly exerted himself and bit back the cry. Jack rolled over to stare at the warlord in amazement.

"What the hell?!"

Gasping a bit from the pain, the albino youth quickly crawled over to Chase and enveloped the child in a long-kimono-sleeved hug.

"Act like a kid!" Jack hissed.

"Who the hell is that, Jackie?!"

The raging speaker was finally revealed. A giant of a man stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He was impeccably dressed; as if someone had put a Viking in an Armani suit. Fair blond hair just starting to gray at the temples was swept back from his sharp-featured face. Age was just starting to show in his face; he might have been a very fit forty. But the eyes glittering as hard and sharp as diamonds sparked recognition.

"I'm babysitting!" Jack yelled. "Geez, chill out, Dad!"

Chase sat sullenly at one of the high stools around the island in the middle of the kitchen. Jack's father sat at the other end, watching the shrunken warlord like a scientist would watch a particularly interesting insect. Jack hobbled around the room, putting together breakfast.

Chase had wondered why the JackBots weren't doing the cooking, but RJ 13 had opened the door, taken one look at Jack's father and bolted back down the hallway. Evidentially, news like Mr. Spicer got around.

"Babysitting, huh?" Mr. Spicer blurted out bluntly. "That's surprisingly responsible of you, Jack."

"Y-Yeah; Chase's dad is . . . a friend of mine. He had to leave the country suddenly, so he asked if I could watch Little Chase for a little while."

"Mmm. It's good that he trusts you."

Jack limped back to the island with a coffee pot in his hand. He poured a cup for his father and one for himself. The albino youth started towards Chase, but stopped quickly, reminding himself of Chase's condition. Instead, he returned the coffee pot to it's burner and retrieved a glass of orange juice.

"How many waffles do you want?" Jack asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Three." Chase was going to give the rest of his order in his normal imperious manner, but something in the youth's broken tone stopped him.

"Bring me the sugar, Jack." Mr. Spicer ordered.

Jack did so without hesitation. The injured youth placed the sugar bowl in front of his father and waited. Mr. Spicer spooned two heaps of sweetener into his coffee with all the finality of a dictator signing a death warrant.

"Babysitting, huh?" He repeated. There was something in the tone that was eerily reminiscent of a loaded gun being cocked.

Chase could actually see the tension run through Jack's body.

"Y-Yeah, Dad." Spicer murmured quietly.

"Kind of _feminine_ for an after-school job, isn't it?" The cutting remark whipped out like a serpent's tongue.

"It's not an after-school job!" Jack protested. "I'm doing a favor!"

"Mmm."

"Jack's nice," Little Chase piped up. "He has to shave his face 'cause he's a big boy. And he gave me JackBear. I like Jack."

Mr. Spicer shifted his focus to Chase as if he had forgotten the child was there.

"Your daddy's out of China?"

Little Chase hesitated, but Real Chase managed to give his alter ego enough of a kick to get the rotten urchin to nod.

"Where's your mother?"

"I don't have one."

"I see." Again, the man's tone suggested that not having a mother ranked as a cardinal sin.

Little Chase seemed oblivious to this, taking a sip of his juice in the clumsy, two-handed way that small children did. Jack took the opportunity to run back to the waffle maker and tip out the contents onto two plates.

"I want strawberries on mine!" Little Chase demanded. "And whipped cream!"

Jack blinked at in him in surprise, but looked around the kitchen like he'd never been in it before.

"Um . . . okay."

The albino youth began rooting through the cabinets, finally coming up with a can of strawberry pie filling and a canister of whipped cream. He quickly doctored a plate of waffles for Chase, who was doing a _great_ job of acting his age.

"Um . . do you want strawberries, too, Dad?"

"No, I do not want strawberries." Venom dripped from the man's voice.

Jack shuddered to hear it. Mr. Spicer was just lifting his head, sure to deliver another verbal attack for something he had no doubt praised Jack on before when the door swung open again. This time, Nana Spicer entered the kitchen. Jack actually sagged slightly in relief.

There was something in his aura that said: 'Ah . . . _backup_.'

"Everything all right in here, lads?" She asked, obviously already knowing the answer.

"Just fine, Mum," Mr. Spicer lied. "Do you know Jackie is babysitting? Isn't that responsible of him?"

Jack sighed gustily, setting Chase's plate in front of him. Chase felt like doing the same. How was the youth supposed to learn anything from his father if he was going to be praised, insulted, praised, and no doubt insulted again for the same act? All he was doing was reinforcing Jack's fear and uncertainty. It was no wonder the boy changed sides as often as he changed his clothes. With his father as a role model, there was no way Jack could choose the right action.

Little Chase dug into the waffles, sawing at the sweet treats with knife and fork. After wondering for a moment if Chase was trying for an Academy Award, Jack took the utensils away from him.

"Here, let me."

Jack cut the waffles into manageable pieces as Nana Spicer joined the group at the island.

"Babysitting, hmm? I don't know; don't you think Our Chase looks a bit like Our Jackie?"

"Nana . . ." Jack sighed.

"Jack conceiving an heir would be way too much to hope for." Mr. Spicer growled. "I think Chase's single father is probably trying Jack out to be Chase's new mommy."

Jack's cheeks burned as he set a plate down in front of his father.

"Yeah, god forbid fathers know how to take care of their children." Jack snarked, confident enough to talk back with Nana nearby.

Mr. Spicer slapped his son across the face.

Nana Spicer slapped _her_ son across the face.

"Don't slap Our Jackie in front of his child!" Nana yelled.

"That little chink isn't Jackie's kid! That would require he be straight!" Mr. Spicer yelled.

"Don't call Chase a chink!" Jack yelled.

All three opened their mouths to continue yelling, but a piercing cry drowned them out.

Chase was crying.

The shrunken dragon lord had his hands pressed against his eyes, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. The shrill cry of of a child echoed off the tiles of the kitchen. Jack, Mr. Spicer, and Nana Spicer stared. Finally, Jack shook himself and went to Chase's side, wrapping his arms around the ancient warrior.

"Um . . . there, there. Don't cry, Chase."

"He's mean!!" Chase sobbed, pointing to Mr. Spicer.

"Yeah, I know. It's okay; don't cry."

Little Chase buried his face in Jack's chest, smearing strawberry syrup and whipped cream across the black silk. Chubby hands clutched at the billowing sleeves as Little Chase slithered off the stool. Jack found himself holding one very upset dragon lord.

"You know what? Come on; let's get out of here." Jack walked stiffly out of the kitchen.

"I want JackBear!"

"You left him in the bedroom?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"RJ 13!"

The robot appeared by magic. He must have been lurking nearby.

"Yes, Master?"

"Go upstairs and get JackBear for Chase. We'll be in my evil lair. Oh, and RJ 13?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Chase saw you molesting the television last night."

"Oh." If it was possible for a machine to blush, RJ 13 would have done so.

"So that means you're short a fuse."

"_A_ fuse. Yes. I'm short one."

Something about the stress on the singular had Jack raising an eyebrow.

"Open up your chest cabinet."

Still wearing the 'I wish I had facial capillaries so I could be beet red' look, RJ 13 unzipped his coat, lifted up his T-shirt and opened up his chest. Jack took quick count of the empty spaces. There was only one fuse that burned out when the robot achieved climax, but the perverted mechanoid had quickly cottoned on to the fact that there were some of his operating systems that he didn't need all the time.

RJ 13 cannibalized his fuses so that he could orgasm more often.

"Five?"

"The DVD player wanted in on the action."

"The DVD player?"

"A-and the stereo system was hot to party."

"You know what? I don't wanna know. Just go get JackBear."

"Yes, Master!"

* * *

Jack walked down the stairs to his evil lair, setting up the security system. Only the JackBots, RoboJacks, and Jack himself could come and go now.

Chase had quieted down. Jack had thought he was just a fantabulous actor, but tears still ran down the dragon lord's cheeks and by Asimov, he was sucking his thumb.

"It's okay." Jack repeated, bouncing the child slightly. "We're safe down here. RJ 13's getting JackBear."

Jack reached the bottom step and sat down stiffly, Chase perched on his lap. He continued to croon and pat the shrunken warlord until the tears stopped falling. The little boy stiffened when the door opened, but it was only RJ 13. The robot came down the steps and handed the weaponized toy to Chase.

Little Chase buried his face in the dark fabric of the bear's shoulder. As the child side slowly became placated, Real Chase resumed control.

"Spicer?"

"Yeah?"

For a moment, Chase seriously considered tearing himself from the genius's grip and heaping some verbal abuse on the teen, but the events at breakfast made him reconsider.

"How long has your father been insane?"

"He's bipolar, not insane. He just won't get help."

"He has no control over his behavior. Whatever you call that, it equals insanity."

Jack was quiet for a few minutes. Chase was still in his lap, but his control was firmly back in place.

"I'm sure lots of people grow up with one insane parent." He sighed.

"As much as it pains me to bring this up, dressing your son as a girl because you wished for a daughter isn't a great sign of mental stability."

Jack snorted, the sound barely muffling a sob.

"You know the worst part?"

"Mmm?"

"I want a family someday. How am I going to be a good father if _this_ is what I have to learn from?"

"We all have obstacles to over-oh blast it!"

Jack looked down in surprise at the cry, but was cut off as Little Chase threw his arms around the albino youth's chest and hugged tight.

"You're a good daddy, Jack!" Little Chase cried. "You keep me safe and made me JackBear and fixed me waffles and showed me what big boys do! You're a good daddy!"

Quite against his better judgement, Jack gave a dopey grin and hugged the boy in his lap.

"Thanks, buddy. I really needed to hear that."

They remained in that pose. RJ 13 stood by the workbench, his systems on standby. The only sound was of a fly buzzing through the lair. Then the airborne pest disappeared through a ventilation duct and even that sound was gone.

* * *

Three of the Xiaolin Dragons waited in the courtyard of the Temple, looking up at the sky. After a little while, a fly buzzed around their heads.

"Kimiko?" Raimundo asked.

"Manchurian Musca!"

The fly quickly changed shape and size, resuming it's normal form as the Dragon of Fire.

"Oh my God, it's all true!" Kimiko yelled. "I saw the kid! He's half Chinese and he even looks a little like Chase Young! Jack's dad was screaming at him and even smacked him one! I saw it through the kitchen window! Then I went down into the basement and the kid was telling Jack he was a good daddy!"

"Well, I'll be a son of a gun," Clay drawled. "If that don't beat all."

"No way. That's just wrong." Rai breathed.

"How can Jack Spicer have a child?! He has no wife!" Omi asked.

"It's true, Omi. Jack Spicer has a son!" Kimiko declared.

* * *

Author's note:

Sorry for the delay, folks, but the disc I had my 'Eternal Youth' chapters housed on suffered a meltdown and I lost two 99.5 completed chapters that I hadn't gotten around to uploading yet. I also lost a chapter of 'Ghost Story' that was one paragraph away from completion and I honestly just couldn't face it for a few days.

Anyways, back in the saddle. Have some _angst!_


	8. Bunny Slope

Jack sighed. It had been four days since his father's untimely appearance. The old man was gone again, off to either Malaysia or Polynesia or Micronesia or somewhere like that. Jack didn't really care where his father went. His only concern was when he came back.

In a few days, the albino teenager would get a present sent to him as an apology. It was a routine he had become familiar with; get roughed up and belittled, win a fabulous prize!

At the moment, though, he was starting to understand why fathers beat their kids.

"Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack."

Just over and over again, Jack marvelled. Like he could keep it up all day.

"Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack. Jaaaaaack. Jaaaaaack. Jaaaaaack."

And here I'm trying to make him some better weapons so we can re-take his castle and does he let me work in peace? No.

"Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack."

Not that I would ever beat my kid.

"Jaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Jaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Jaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaack."

"_**What?!**_" Spicer roared, whirling away from his workbench.

Little Chase was standing at the bottom of the stairs, Jack Bear tucked under one arm and an innocent look on his face.

"Hi." The dragon lord announced. This done, the child giggled and ran back up the stairs.

A muscle under Jack's eye started to twitch.

Oh yeah. He would never beat his kids.

But he understood.

Rolling his neck to try to relieve the tension, Jack turned back to his work. He was trying to come up with weapons that would counter-act Chase's total lack of strength. He had some neat breakthroughs with an ionized wire that was like a pocketknife light saber, but with Chase reverting to childhood, the goth genius wasn't sure he trusted the boy with it.

Chase may have been trying to hide the changes his mind was going through, but after Little Chase's meltdown over the Scary Man at Breakfast, Jack had put two and two together. Little Chase could be really cute when he wasn't dead set on annoying his caretaker to death. But Jack was starting to get concerned over how much Little Chase was the one in charge.

"Jack."

The young albino man hung his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

"What is it, Chase?" He asked in the sweetest tone he could manage.

"What's this for?" Something thunked down the stairs as Chase returned to the basement.

Jack looked over his shoulder at the object Chase cradled against his chest. The tall column dragged along the floor when the shrunken warlord walked, leaving the gold-painted figure at the top right at Chase's eye level. At first Jack didn't recognize it. He hadn't seen the thing in about seven years.

"That's a skiing trophy, Chase."

"It was in your closet."

"Yeah, I won it a long time ago."

Jack turned back to his work. It would have been . . . let's see, going on eight years since Jack Spicer had been a familiar sight on the slopes of Aspen. For three years previous, Jack spent every day that was cold enough for snow under the tutelage of a ski or snowboarding instructor, or even a figure skating coach. There was talk of Olympic hope, or a career as a professional snowboarder, or something else dashing and dramatic and cool.

Then it turned his mom had been nailing the lodge owner.

Apparently Jack could have been laying in a ditch somewhere for all it mattered, as long as Mom had her alone time with . . . . James or Hans or whatever his name had been.

Kinda cast a pall over Jack's winter sports activities.

"I wanna go!" Chase announced, jerking Spicer back into the present.

"Go? Go where?" Jack asked, turning away from his work yet again.

Chase hefted the trophy.

"You want to go skiing?" Jack asked.

Chase nodded eagerly.

"Do you even know how to ski?"

"No. But you can teach me!" Chase lifted the cheap prize over his head. "You're great at it! You have _trophies_."

* * *

"Omi, why should we even care? Jack was the one who had a kid. And he's _evil_." Raimundo stressed. "Why do you want to go help him?"

"It is true Jack is weak and misguided, but he will be having much difficulties with a child, since he has no wife to care for the boy." Omi paused. "You never explained _how_ Jack could have a child without being married, ei-"

"Little partner's got a point!" Clay said quickly. "Bein' a single parent's hard enough, but it sounds like Jack's daddy ain't too happy about what happened. He's gotta be havin' a hard time about now."

"I'm not babysitting some brat that carries the dreaded Spicer genes!" Kimiko declared. "Jack made his bed and then – did things in it," the Japanese girl censored herself, glancing at Omi. "He can lie in it!"

"Look at it this way." Clay said. "Jack's flirted with joining the side of Good before. If we go help him out when he's at his worst, he might come over to the Xiaolin side and bring his Little Chase with him. If not, then in a few years we've got a father-son team of evil on our hands."

"You just want somebody to play Cowboys and Indians with you!" Raimundo retorted. "I saw you getting all your toys together!"

"I had not thought of that!" Omi cried. "Yes! This could turn Jack Spicer to the side of Good! We must go attend to him in his darkest hour!"

* * *

"Oh Jenny, isn't that the most adorable thing you've ever seen in your life?"

"Awwwww!"

A small group of young women, the daughters of wealth and privilege, cooed in delight at the sight of the pair on the bunny slope.

Jack Spicer wore his black ski suit, the high tech material hugging his lean form pleasantly. He had his signature goggles pushed up around his hairline, the straps augmented with black earmuffs. Such accessories weren't unusual on a ski slope.

Usually Jack preferred snowboarding, but since he was teaching Chase, he opted for normal skis this time. A pair of long black skis were strapped to his feet, the dark slashes against the snow surrounding Chase Young protectively.

Chase was bundled up tightly in a green and black snowsuit, and since Jack seriously hadn't been able to resist, a warm cap with a trailing crest made to look like a dragon's tail was tied under the evil overlord's chin.

Chase was wobbling his way down the bunny slope, clutching Jack's hands tightly. The albino youth stood just behind the shrunken warlord, leaning over the child so his hands would reach down far enough. Jack's skis were turned so far inward in an effort to keep his speed to Chase's that the tips nearly touched.

"Young fathers are so cute!"

Jack looked up at the exclamation. There were a group of women on the balcony of the nearby ski lodge, watching the beginners on the bunny slope. To his surprise, they were all looking at him. A few waved.

A self-conscious blush crept across the pale youth's face. He waved a couple of free fingers at them.

"Jack!" Chase had just lost his balance and squealed out his teacher's name as his skis started down the slope without him.

"I've got you!" Spicer assured the child. He tightened his grip on Chase's hands and pulled him back upright. "If that ever happens when I'm not holding on to you, just sit down, okay?"

"I have to do this by myself?!" The dragon lord asked in disbelief.

"Well yeah!" Jack laughed.

To his credit, even as little kid, Chase was no coward. He got his feet under him, then _s-l-o-w-l-y_ let go of first one of Jack's hands, then the other. He stood there, getting used to the feel of the skis. Before the child could protest, Jack straightened up, straightened his skis out, and neatly ski'd over the top of Chase's head. The little boy gaped as his caretaker, teacher, and all-around hero started down the slope.

"_Jack_!" He screeched.

The pale youth coasted down the hill about twenty feet, then twisted sideways to bring himself to a halt.

"I'm not going any further. Ski to me, Chase!"

Chase whimpered, giving Jack a pleading look.

"You can do it, Chase! I know you can!" Jack held out his arms invitingly.

Chase Young stared at the pale young man on the hill below him. Jack stood tall and strong, totally at ease in this environment. His normally harried red eyes were calm, confident, and amused. He balanced so easily and freely on these strange contraptions. Pretty girls were waving at him and Jack still took the time to teach Chase to do it on his own.

Little Chase felt an ache deep inside of him; like he'd never be half as cool as Jack Spicer.

Some part of his mind protested this thought, but Little Chase ignored it.

"Come on, Chase." Jack crouched down so the shrunken warlord could ski straight into his arms. "Remember what I said: straighten your skis to go forward, bring your toes together to slow down and sit down to stop."

Trembling, reaching forward, the little boy straightened his skis and started down the slope towards Jack. Spicer grinned broadly, his expression one of utter joy. Little Chase smacked solidly into his chest with a 'whump'. The little imp's eyes were aglow as he looked up at Jack.

"I did it!"

"You did it! I knew you could, Chase! I believed in you!" The albino youth agreed, cuddling the boy close.

"Aawwwwww," cooed the group on the balcony.

The next hour or so passed in much the same manner; Jack would flit around the slope like a very somberly dress snow hare, coaxing Chase through his lessons until the tot was skiing down the entire bunny slope on his own. Jack always hovered close just in case.

"Wow, Chase, you're great! You'll be better than me, soon!" Spicer cried, applauding as Chase reached the bottom of the bunny slope once again.

"Nuh-uh." Chase giggled, grinning.

The child paused and looked around, the tail of his hat swinging around as if it were wagging.

"Jaaaaack, I'm hungry and cold." He whined suddenly.

"Hungry and cold, huh?" Jack took stock of their location. There was the lodge overlooking the beginner's area, but Spicer remembered there was a restaurant on the very peak. When _he_ had been a regular to the slopes, that restaurant was reserved for the elite of the elite. Not only did you have to be able to afford it, you had to be cool enough.

Jack's mother had refused to take him there.

But this time, Jack Spicer was cool enough.

* * *

"Wow, Jack, look, look!" Chase squealed, pointing over Spicer's shoulder. The albino youth chuckled. The warlord-turned-toddler was getting his first ride in a cable car and was nearly beside himself with joy.

There were several ways to get to the peak, but with Chase already complaining of the cold, Jack had foregone the normal open air ski lift and bought them tickets on the sky tram. The cozy, enclosed cars hung from stout cables and would be a safe and restful way to get them both to the top of the mountain.

Or so Jack thought.

Shortly into the ride, Jack had to get up from his seat to catch Chase, who was darting back and forth from one side to the other, trying to see out both at once. Not only were the other riders starting to give them that '_my_ kid would never do that' look, Chase's motion had set the car rocking slightly and some of the others were looking a bit green.

Now the shrunken warlord was safely corralled in Jack's lap, where his destructive tenancies were limited to stomping on Jack's groin with his ski boots. Spicer winced as Chase dug a toe into his family jewels as the tot craned his neck to look out of the windows.

"We get to eat dinner all the way at the top?!"

"We sure do."

Jack swept a hand under the dragon lord's knees and twisted his shoulders around, ending up with the world's greatest warrior cradled in his lap like a baby.

"Know what?" He asked the child. "Once I snuck up to the peak when my teacher wasn't watching, and I skied the triple black diamond trail all the way back down and didn't fall _once_."

"Wow." Chase breathed, his gold eyes wide.

"They closed that trail last year." A young man with jet black hair peeking out from under his ski cap announced. "There was a really massive avalanche and part of the mountain just fell off."

"'Fell off'?" Jack echoed.

"Yeah, it just dropped straight down into a gorge. It looks like the Alps back there."

"Was that where they used to have the ski jumps?" Asked a woman in her mid-thirties.

"Mmm-hmm. There's just this one jump left hanging out over the abyss like: Who dares jump the gorge?!"

This drew a chuckle from most of the riders. Jet Black Hair started up a conversation about the best trails in the area with a few other riders. Jack noticed Chase was suspiciously quiet and looked down to see the dragon lord drifting off to sleep. Spicer grinned. It stood to reason that Little Chase would be tired; they had a long day. After dinner they would go home and get some sleep. Jack hoped the little boy wouldn't cry when it was time to leave; God knows _he_ always had. It would be some kind of karmic revenge if he had to deal with the same tricks he had pulled as a kid.

"You know what's great to see?"

Jack looked up to see Mid-Thirties Woman smiling at him warmly.

"What?"

"It's great to see a young parent actually taking care of his child instead of just foisting them off on a nanny," She said. She didn't question whether or not Jack could afford a nanny; if he was here, he had money.

"And actually taking their kid along with them." Said the man sitting next to her. He looked about the same age as Jack's father, but was still quite handsome in a Robert Redford-y kind of way.

"When I was your age, these lodges and clubs always had children around. They learned what was expected of them and the proper way to behave around their peers and elders. Now you're lucky to see a child under fifteen and they're usually spoiled brats because they've been isolated from everyone but their babysitters for most of their lives."

That was on the nose, Jack thought with a slight grimace. Robert Redford-y Man saw the look and laughed.

"Sorry, lad, did I just describe your childhood?"

"To a 'T'," Jack sighed, looking down at Chase. "That's why I didn't want that for him."

"He's _so_ cute." Mid-Thirties Woman interjected. "How old is he?"

"Four."

"He doesn't call you 'daddy'." Robert Redford-y Man observed.

Jack sighed. What the hell, everyone assumed Chase was his son anyway; why fight it?

"He lived with his mother until recently. Then she basically dropped him with me and said she never wanted to see either of us ever again." The lie dropped quite easily from Jack Spicer's lips. "He doesn't really know me as his father."

The cable car jerked. Chase's eyes popped open wide.

"It's okay," Jack told the boy. "We're at the top. Now they have to pull the car up to the door so we can get off safely."

Chase didn't answer, just stared up at Jack for a moment. Then his eyes drifted close again. Around them, the other passengers began to gather their skis and other effects.

"That's too bad; I imagine there was trouble because you're so young?" Mid-Thirties Woman asked. Jack nodded. "Well, at least you know you'll never have to let him go."

Spicer gave a sad smile. Little did she know.

Jack shifted Chase against his shoulder so he could have one hand free to pick up their skis and head into the restaurant. There was an airlock where patrons could stash their skis and boots and change into soft slipper-type boots provided by the restaurant. Chase was roused again when his footwear was changed. As Jack hefted the sleepy child back to his shoulder, Real Chase managed to make an appearance.

"How long do you plan on holding me like this, Spicer?" He growled, fighting his body's urge for sleep.

"Just until the Stockholm Syndrome sets in," Jack quipped.

Something that might have been a laugh escaped from the sleepy dragon lord, then Chase was gone again. The hostess prepared to greet them with her usual smile, but stopped and let out a subdued squeal.

"Oh My God, she's _sooooo_ cute!" The girl gasped.

"He." Jack corrected.

"He's so cute! Awwwww," The girl's gaze flicked downward suddenly, then she gave Jack a warm, inviting smile.

'Did she just check for a wedding ring?' Jack wondered. What the hell; first the women on the balcony, then that lady on the cable car, now this hostess. Jack was girl candy today.

"Is there somewhere quiet I could sit with him for a few minutes? I'd like to let him sleep a little more so he's not cranky when he wakes up." Jack asked.

"Oh, sure! Come on and sit by the fireplace. Normally this is where people wait for a table to open up, but it's off-season, so there's not too many people here yet." She led him down a few steps behind the bar to an open great room. A fireplace nearly twelve feet tall would have dominated the room, but where the walls should have been floor to ceiling picture windows looked out over the mountain range.

Jack chose an overstuffed armchair near the fireplace and settled in.

"Do you want something to drink?" The hostess asked. "Maybe some cocoa for the little one?"

"Cocoa sounds good. I'll take a cappuccino."

Another brilliant smile and she disappeared back to serve the other patrons.

Wow. Who knew toting a kid around suddenly turned you into every woman's dream? Even without that, Jack had a blast today. Teaching Little Chase, playing with him, even being annoyed by him was kind of funny in hindsight. Jack brushed a stray lock of black hair back up under Chase's hat. Being responsible for a child, protecting him, caring for him; it made Jack feel stronger, bigger, somehow much more adult.

Jack was really going to miss this feeling when Chase was restored to his normal age.

Then again . . .

. . . Did he have to be returned to normal?

Red eyes widened as Jack let the thought steal over him. If he just kept Chase the way he was, Little Chase would take over completely. Jack was the only caretaker the boy had ever known; he would accept it if Jack told him he actually _was_ the boy's father. Nana already thought the child was his; it wouldn't be too hard to whip up a fake DNA test to prove it. A sobbing confession of stupidity a few years ago would have his mother accepting Chase as her grandchild with open arms. His father . . . well, his father would alternately be enraged that he had conceived a child and relieved that Jack was (semi) straight.

Then Chase _would_ be his. Chase Young would love him. Sure, it wasn't the kind of love Jack had first wanted, but love was love! By the time he was grown again, the bond between them would be iron-clad. They could rule the world together as father and son.

A smile spread slowly across Jack's face.

The hostess came back with Jack's coffee and Chase's cocoa.

"I just can't get over how cute he is!" The girl said. "What's his name?"

"Chase." Jack answered with a proud grin. "His name is Chase Young Spicer."


	9. Black Diamond

"Chase? Chase? Chaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaase? Your cocoa's getting cold." Jack murmured, stroking the warlord's face. Chase's face screwed up into a pout as he slowly awoke. 

"What a face," Jack chuckled, looking at the bratty scowl. "If the wind changes, your face will stick like that."

Chase gave what was undeniably a whine, rubbing one mitten-clad hand across his eyes.

"Come on, sleepy boy. We're going to eat dinner, then we'll go home."

"Nooooooooo!" Chase whined. "I don't wanna go home yet!"

'Wow,' Jack thought. 'That is annoying.'

The albino genius levered the child up to sit upright. Chase flopped like a rag doll, totally trusting the young man cradling him to keep him from tumbling onto the floor.

"Jack?"

"What?"

"Are you my father?" Little Chase asked point blank. "You told that lady on the cable car you were but I just didn't know it. And that my mommy ran away." The dragon lord looked down at his lap sadly. "Is it true? Are you my daddy?"

Despite his earlier decision, Jack hesitated for a second. Actually telling Little Chase was the deep plunge in, no room for taking it back or 'I was just joking'. But he had to say something.

"Would you be sad if I was?"Jack asked. Chase's eyes remained on his lap, his whole demeanor downcast, but he shook his head. "You look pretty sad."

"W-why did my mommy run away? Was I bad?" The little boy asked in a tiny voice. "Are you gonna run away if I'm bad?"

Jack felt his jaw drop. Little Chase was mourning the loss of a mother he didn't even remember? A mother that didn't actually exist?

"Hey. Hey, I'm not going to run away." Jack promised. "I'll always be here for you, Chase. For as long as you need me. Even if you're bad. Even if you throw a tantrum and tell me to go away! I'm never going to leave you."

"You promise?" Chase asked, finally looking up at Jack.

"I promise."

"Promise on a pinky swear?!"

"What?"

"Promise on a pinky swear!" Chase repeated, holding up one pinky finger. Jack grinned, a bit puzzled. Where had he picked this up?

The young albino man hooked a pale finger around his young charge's.

"I promise on a pinky swear. I'll be here for as long as you need me, Chase."

Little Chase's face broke into a huge smile. He threw his arms around Jack, hugging tightly. The pale teenager felt a wave of warmth wash over him. Oh yeah; this was right.

* * *

"Sorry your little baby shower got postponed, kids, but a new Shen-Gong-Wu just activated!" Dojo stated, curling through the sky.

"Don't apologize," Raimundo grumbled.

"The good news is Jack'll probably be too busy with th' little fella t' come after th' wu!" Clay called from his spot furthest back on the dragon.

"Yes! We shall collect this wu without delay, then go aid Jack Spicer in his darkest hour!" Omi declared.

"Dojo, what's this wu?" Kimiko asked.

"The Glasses of Bi Shi. Uh . . . . this one falls under 'unknown', kids," the dragon said, holding up the mangled end of a scroll. The torn and tattered edges flapped in the wind.

"Great. I hope it doesn't do anything stupid." Rai sighed.

* * *

"Chase, how exactly did you manage to get more down the front of you than in your mouth?" Jack asked, swiping a napkin down the front of Chase's snowsuit. "Were you saving it for later?"

Chase growled.

Jack's eyes snapped to Chase's face, expecting Real Chase to be back. Instead, he was greeted with a bratty scowl from Little Chase.

"'M not messy," the boy snarled.

'Wow, he's going to be an unholy terror when he's a teenager.' Jack reflected.

"I know; that soup just snuck up on you." Spicer teased gently.

Another growl.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I won't tease you anymore."

Little Chase grunted, slightly mollified. Any further discussion was cut off by the beeping of Jack's Shen-Gong-Wu detector. Jack straightened quickly, pushing his sleeve back.

"What is it?" Little Chase asked.

"A new Shen-Gong-Wu! It's close; real close." Studying his instrument, Jack carefully lined himself up to the heading. "It's in this direction. Distance is approximately six . . . ._ feet_?"

Jack looked up. In the lounge of the restaurant, frames and cases along the wall held knickknacks and souvenirs from events in the business's history. Jack held up his wu detector until it lit up like a Christmas tree. The albino youth peered at the object before him.

"That's a Shen Gong Wu?"

The tackiest, most hideous pair of pink sunglasses Jack had ever seen were displayed in a small frame on the wall.

"Gag me. I wonder what they do."

"Pretty! I like pink!" Little Chase declared.

"A wu's a wu." Spicer looked around, then lifted the frame off of the wall and made to slip into his snowsuit.

A massive hand clapped down onto his shoulder, causing Jack to shriek and spin around in alarm. He flattened himself against the wall, Little Chase pinned between his legs and the wood surface.

"C-Clay?" Jack gasped.

The Dragon of the Earth sighed, glancing down at Little Chase. The Texan was dressed in his thick winter coat and hat, the Third Arm Sash wrapped around his waist.

"I was hopin' you'd sit this one out, Spicer," Clay growled. "Just hand over th' wu an' we kin all go home happy."

"How does me handing over a wu _I_ rightfully found constitute me being happy?!" Jack asked, still trying to flatten himself against the wall. Though Clay Bailey seemed the mildest of the Xiaolin Warriors, he was big. Like, _really_, big.

Little Chase picked up on Jack's fear, clenching his fists into the teenager's snow pants.

Clay sighed again and leaned forward.

"Jack, I don' wanna whup yer butt in front of yer boy, but I will." He said in a low voice.

Jack cringed backwards. Little Chase let out a whimper as he was squeezed uncomfortably between the wall and Jack's leg. Red eyes darted down towards the child.

"Daddy . . ." Chase whispered, the fear evident in his voice.

Deep down, Jack felt that burn start again; that angry/scared feeling that made him want to lash out. Clay was scaring Chase.

"I'll just take it, then. Third Arm Sash!" The mystical belt reached for the frame peeking out of Jack's coat.

Thick black eyebrows drew down low across crimson eyes. Jack reached up and grabbed the Third Arm Sash before it could grab the new wu. Then he planted one ski boot squarely in the Texan's Levi's.

The Dragon of the Earth shrilled out a note audible only to canines and folded up in his own private world of pain.

"A wu's a wu!" Jack repeated giddily, yanking the Third Arm Sash off of the prone warrior. "Come on, Chase, it's time for the get away!"

Spicer grabbed the boy by the arm and hauled him to the entry way where their skis waited.

"You can kick another guy there?" Chase asked in amazement.

"Chase, that's the _only_ place to kick a guy that big."

"There goes Jack!" Kimiko's voice rang out through the restaurant.

The albino youth meeped and snatched up his skis in one hand and Chase in the other, running out into the brisk winter air. The shrunken dragon lord squirmed uncomfortably, letting out a quiet whine.

"Looks like we're going to have to make a dash for it, Chase. Or should I say a ski for it. Third Arm Sash!" Jack cried.

Chase found himself picked up by the enchanted belt and cinched snuggly against Jack's chest.

"Just hold on tight. We can ski down the top of the Black Diamond trail and take the 'chicken out' trail before we hit the avalanche damage." The tech wizard said calmly, tossing his skis down onto the snow.

Back up on the porch of the restaurant, Omi came out and pointed at the pair in the snow, crying out for his teammates.

"Aren't you scared?" Chase asked, blinking huge gold eyes up at his guardian.

"Nah, when you've run away as many times as I have -"

"Hello, Jack." A melodious voice purred.

Jack felt his blood run cold. With glacial slowness, he turned away from the restaurant and the approaching monks.

Wuya stood only a few feet away, leaning casually against a fir tree. To Jack's surprise, she had both of her arms, though he could see a vicious scar running around her right forearm. Okay, so probably some kind of magic healing wu or something. Fine.

"O-oh. Hey Wuya," Jack quavered. Little Chase let out a sharp gasp, twisting to look at the witch. "Shshshshsh." The albino teen rubbed Chase's back comfortingly.

"Out for a little wu hunting, are we?" Wuya purred, straightening up. The Heylin which didn't seem to mind the snow on her bare feet.

"Well, you know, we were in the area . . . ."

Jack leaned back, slowly clicking his ski boots into the slots on his skis. Spicer had done a lot of running away, and Rule #1 was: always make sure your running shoes were laced on tight. Or in this case, make sure you could hop on the slope and zip down the mountain.

"Jack Spicer! Prepare for a humiliating defeat!" Omi's voice rang out across the snow.

Jack half-turned to see the monks congregating outside the door of the restaurant. Clay was hunched over and looking definitely less than his usual cheerful self. Spicer cringed at the thought of what would happen when the cowboy finally regained the ability to move without pain.

The tech wizard made a quick decision.

"Wuya's got the Shen Gong Wu!" he yelled, pointing at the witch. "I'm just taking my son out of this hostile environment!"

With that, the albino youth stepped backwards and disappeared down the ski slope.

Chase keened in distress as the pair shot down the steep slope. Jack remained heading backwards until he was sure the monks had taken the bait and gone after Wuya. Luckily for him, they seemed thick enough to assume whatever one of their worst enemies told them.

"Losers." He declared, then spun and twisted deftly, ending up heading the right way down the slope.

Chase continued to whimper.

"It's okay, Chase!" Jack called. He reached up to pull his goggles down over his eyes. "As long as we can get down the mountain, they'll lose track of us among the snow bunnies. Cake walk!"

* * *

"I don't have the wu, you imbeciles!" Wuya snarled, trying to favor her injured arm. "If Jack took it, he still has it!"

"Why should we believe you?" Kimiko asked.

"Because neither of us has anything to gain by fighting each other! We should be fighting Jack!" The Heylin witch insisted.

"I sure owe that low down snake a thing or two," Clay announced, utilizing a handful of snow as an impromptu ice pack.

"He took off down the ski slope!" Rai cried. "How are we going to catch him now?"

"I know how I'll catch him." Wuya announced, lifting the Thorn of Thunderbolt.

"See, Chase? When you get good, this'll be easy for you, too!" Jack called, zooming effortlessly down the steep slope.

Chase didn't comment. Jack patted his back comfortingly and continued his downhill dash. Wow, he had forgotten how much fun this was; the air brisk in your lungs, the snow stinging your cheeks and the wind in your hair. The hot rush from zooming along so effortlessly . . . .why had he stopped doing this again? Oh yeah, 'cause his mom was a whore.

Well, maybe he could be an adult and get over that little fact; if Chase enjoyed this, too, then-

There was a deep crack.

For the second time that day, Jack felt his blood run cold. Every winter sports enthusiast knew that sound. They knew it and they learned to fear it instinctively; it was the sound of a few thousand tons of snow deciding it was in the mood to seek greener pastures.

A few more cracks followed the first. Jack wished he believed in God so he could start praying to someone that he'd hit the chicken out run soon.

* * *

"Are you crazy?! What's wrong with you?!" Kimiko shrieked at the Heylin witch.

Wuya held the still smoking Shen Gong Wu, a smug look on her face.

"In case you little children hadn't noticed, my relationship with Jack Spicer has gone to the next level. I'm not interested in stealing wu from him. Now I want his slow death."

"He had his boy with him!" Clay shouted. "They'll both die!"

"Yes?" Wuya asked, bringing out the Longi Kite. "And your point would be?"

"We gotta help him!" Rai cried. Beneath the monks, the mountain trembled as the avalanche began.

* * *

"Okay, okay, just gotta remember my avalanche survival training," Jack sang under his breath as Chase wailed in his ear. "Okay, rule number one: don't try to outrun it."

The albino youth hazarded a peek over his shoulder at the advancing wall of white death.

"Okay; fuck that. Rule two: try to get in the trees so they'll break up the snow. No trees, okay. Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"Jack! There you are!"

Spicer looked up at the shout. Dojo was coiling and undulating through the air above him, Kimiko riding on his back.

"Fucking peachy," Jack snarled. It couldn't be Clay or Raimundo or someone sufficiently heavy enough to pull Jack up, no, it just had to be Kimiko! Kimiko who probably couldn't manage much more than . . . . Chase.

Oh hell. Bloody, peachy, flaming hell.

"Chase! You gotta be a brave boy for me now, okay?!" Jack called.

"D-Daddy?!"

Jack Spicer wrenched the child away from his chest and held him out towards Kimiko.

"Third Arm Sash!"

"No! Daddy!"

"Jack?" Kimiko gasped, feeling the magic belt snap around her waist.

Little Chase howled in protest as he shot towards the Dragon of Fire. Kimiko grabbed Dojo's mane to keep herself seated as the shrunken warlord cannoned into her arms.

"No!!! Daddy! Save my daddy!"

"Hey Kimiko! You let anything happen to him and I'll make sure you pay for it!" Jack called.

Spicer shifted his weight and shot down the slope, just ahead of the thundering wall of snow.

"Oh my god . . .Jack!" Kimiko called.

Dojo climbed higher, trying to keep the albino genius in sight as he dodged and zipped down the slope, trying to keep ahead of the nearly liquid wall of snow. Chase buried his face in his mittens and wailed.

* * *

There wasn't much in the way of rational thought going through Jack's head. All that was really happening was the mechanical, automatic desire to stay out of the moving, shifting wall of snow. The slope grew steeper, almost bordering on vertical. At some point he must have passed up the chicken out run and now the gaping chasm yawned wide ahead of him.

That was just great; he could choose between being crushed to death by an avalanche or fall to his death in a deep crevasse and _then_ be crushed when the snow he outran caught up with him at the bottom.

Unless . . .just on the edge of his vision, a stark white line of snow jutted out over the dark chasm.

The jump.

The jump Jet Black Hair had been talking about back on the cable car. 'Who dares jump the gorge?' indeed. Someone who was going to die whatever choice they made, that's who.

"Marvelous." Jack growled, aiming for the thin white strip of hope.

* * *

"Oh geez . . . He's not going to do what I think he's going to do, is he?!" Dojo asked. "I can't look!"

"Raimundo! Get your Wudai Wind butt up here and do something!" Kimiko wailed, gesturing wildly for the Dragon of Wind.

Down on the slopes where the other monks searched for other victims of the avalanche, Rai got the feeling he was needed. He looked up to see the slight Japanese girl holding Jack's Chase and waving frantically at him.

* * *

For one heart-stopping moment, Jack didn't think he was going to beat the snow to the jump. He could feel the wind from the displaced snow blowing his crimson hair straight forward; was nearly deafened by the thunder of the churning, shifting wall of white death. Jack didn't dare turn his head to see how far it was behind him; he could see isolated patches of rushing avalanche catching up to him out of the corner of his eyes.

Then the jump sloped up under his skis and Jack was crouched down, trying to make himself as small as possible as he hurtled down the ramp. The jump turned sharply upwards and now the tech wizard was straightening up and leaning forward, his lean body almost parallel with his own skis as he shot out over the gorge.

Kimiko gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth. Dojo slapped a paw over his eyes. Little Chase didn't look away. He stared at the dark figure riding on the breeze, his young features a mix of awe, amazement, and horror.

"Daddy . . ." he whispered.

* * *

Jack kept his position; body held rigidly straight, arms pressed sharply to his sides, skis brought tips up and splayed slightly. Being skis owned by Jack Spicer, after about fifteen seconds of air time, slats detached themselves from the normal length of the skis and fanned outwards, forming fins to catch what extra air time they could.

Jack kept his eyes forward, kept them locked on his target landing site. He felt/heard the avalanche pouring into the gorge beneath him like a very chunky river. He felt the pitch and roll of his trajectory, knew his projected airtime from his work with his robots.

Half way over the gorge, he _knew_.

"Fuck. I'm not gonna make it." Jack breathed.


	10. To Lie in Cold Obstruction

"Fuck. I'm not gonna make it," Jack breathed. 

"He's not gonna make it," Kimiko declared.

Jack saw the opposite ledge approaching. He felt himself start to fall much too short. At this height and speed, dropping into the gorge was almost guaranteed to be lethal.

"Awwwww, hell," Jack whimpered, dropping below the lip of the chasm.

"Wudai Star Wind!"

Hurricane force winds suddenly surrounded Jack, lifting him back up out of the gorge and dumping him unceremoniously on the snow on the other side.

Raimundo hovered in the air above the now completely destroyed ski jump, his elemental aura obscuring his features.

Dojo dipped back down to the mountain and returned bearing the other three monks and Little Chase.

Jack picked himself up off of the ground and gingerly got back to his skis, which had somehow remained unbroken.

"You owe me, Spicer!" Rai cried, settling onto Dojo's back with his friends.

The monks couldn't see Jack's fingers from that distance but, judging by the gesture he aimed at Raimundo, it was probably just as well.

"Daddy! Let me down, I want my daddy!" Little Chase cried, starting to kick and squirm.

Jack sidestepped gingerly to the edge of the gorge and peered in. Urgh. That was a long was down without your helipack.

"Jack! Jack!"

Spicer looked up and waved at the approaching monks. At first he thought they were waving back, but then he noticed the frantic way there were gesturing. Jack got a sudden feeling of 'behind you'.

Therefore, he wasn't totally surprised when Wuya's hands hit his shoulder blades, pitching him down into the chasm.

In fact, he had the wherewithal to twist and grab as he teetered on the brink, dragging the witch into the gorge with him.

The next few minutes were a confused jumble of snow, air, witch, fight and falling.

The pair bounced down the wall of the chasm, punching and clawing at each other when they had the energy, and merely clinging to each other when they didn't. Sometimes Wuya had the upper hand, throttling the young albino man she grappled with, then the pair would glance off of an ice-covered boulder and the resulting force would spin Jack around on top.

When Spicer and Wuya finally landed with a soft 'wump!' in the fresh snow padding the bottom of the gorge, the force of the impact drove them five feet into the snow pack.

Jack landed spread eagle on his back, Wuya sprawled atop and slightly across the albino's body.

For a moment they were too stunned to do anything but lay there and pant.

Wuya flexed the fingers of one hand gingerly, to make sure she still could. With the snow pressed against her face, she couldn't even see her fingers. That was why it was a bit of a shock to feel warm strands of silk brush her digits.

The Heylin witch twisted her wrist towards the warmth. Her fingertips encountered a different expanse of warmth, satiny soft this time. Wuya closed her eyes again and stroked that satin warmth, letting her memory and knowledge of the human body tell her what it was.

The column of a man's throat.

The long tendons stretching from the corner of the jaw to the base of the throat. The light bump of the Adam's apple. The strong line of the jawbone, lightly dusted with beard stubble.

The Adam's apple heaved under Wuya's fingers.

"Wh-what do ya say we call it a tie?" Jack rasped.

The witch's eyes popped open again. It wasn't Jack's statement that startled her, but the way that young, lithe and above all, _male_ body heaved and shifted beneath her as Spicer started to test himself for injuries.

"'Cause, seriously, I think I'm done for the day," Jack continued, oblivious to the witch's confusion. "And if you're after Chase, like, don't bother. I'm going to keep him the way he is."

Deep vibration as Jack's voice reverberated through Wuya's body. The muscles in his torso bunching and twisting as he shifted uncomfortably. The witch suddenly became unbearably warm, even half-buried in the snow.

With a grunt, Wuya sat up, straddling Jack's hips. The tech wizard was pulling his arms free of the snow. He gave her a hopeful smile.

"What do you say, Wuya? Call it a day? For old times sake?"

Jack blinked up at what was his essentially his first evil teacher. Wuya gave him the strangest look. And then, for old times' sake, apparently, she kissed him.

Like, _**kissed**_ him.

Jack felt a serious urge to gag crawling up the back of his throat at the feel of the Heylin witch's tongue in his mouth.

Not that he hated girls or anything, but . . . This was Wuya! Gross! Gross!

The albino youth let out a strangled, choking gasp as the witch drew away.

"When did you grow up, Jack?" The dark skinned woman purred, stroking one sharp nailed finger down Jack's cheek. "When did you grow up to be so sexy? I know how we can work things out."

Wuya leaned back down for another kiss.

Jack freed one hand from the snow and slapped Wuya hard across the cheek.

"Don't touch me!" The albino wailed.

The Heylin witch went over backwards in the snow as Jack scrambled desperately out from underneath her.

"Ohshitohshitohshitohshit . . . ." he muttered, clawing his way through the hard packed snow.

Spicer made it to the surface of the snow and started trying to run, his broken skis acting as pseudo snowshoes.

"Thorn of Thunderbolt!"

A blast of magical lightning tore across the snow, blasting Jack a full twenty feet before sending him crashing back to the snow. Somehow, he managed to stay conscious for a minute. Just long enough for Wuya to plop herself onto his stomach and grin into his dimming red eyes.

"That wasn't nice Jack. As punishment, I think I'm going to have to take your clothes off. . ."

That was the last thing Jack knew for a long time.

* * *

The monks had their own small irritations.

"Wahaaaaaaahaaaaaaahaaaaaaahaaaaaaa! I want my Daaaaaaaddeeeeeeeeee!" Little Chase screamed.

Fat baby tears rolled down the shrunken warlord's chubby cheeks. The Xiaolin dragons stared at the child as if expecting him to lunge for their throats.

"Geez!" Kimiko cried, clamping her hands over her ears. "Somebody shut it up!"

"Just ignore him, the little ones do it for attention," Rai said, tuning out the cries with the practiced ease of an older sibling.

"Now, that ain't very kind. There, there, li'l fella, don't cry," Clay said, rubbing Little Chase's back.

"Yes, it is okay, we will find your father," Omi agreed. "Jack Spicer is very resourceful; he will be just fine, you will see."

Little Chase's tears started to slow.

"R-really?"

"Yeah, if Jack Spicer died easily, we would have killed him a long time ago," Raimundo said.

Gold eyes went wide and round.

The resulting shriek made even Dojo cringed as he snaked through the sky.

"Man, I thought dragon hatchlings could scream," he muttered.

"Look!" Omi cried, pointing. Everyone but Little Chase looked down.

There was a great disturbance in the snow, great clawing swaths that spoke of a great struggle.

"Oh man. It looks like this is where they landed," Kimiko said, leaning over Dojo's side.

"There are Wuya's tracks!" Omi said. "Who else would go barefoot in snow?"

"And . . . .what's this?" Dojo reached down and picked something out of the snow.

It was Jack Spicer's shredded snowsuit.

* * *

"Wakey, wakey, Jack," Wuya purred, prodding the limp youth.

'Cold,' Was the first thought that came to Jack's addled brain. 'Cold, cold, cold, cold.'

The young man tried to hunch over into a protective huddle to retain his body heat, but something held his arms spread-eagled.

Forcing his eyes open, Jack took stock of the situation.

Then he said a very, very bad word.

Wuya had managed to locate a cabin up in the mountains. It had the look of an empty space; as if the owners weren't around for the season. Jack wondered if the heat was even turned on. He would have liked to have gone to check, but seeing as how he was tied to the privacy fence, it would have to wait for later.

Jack tugged experimentally against the clothesline wrapped tightly around his wrists.

"Oh God," Jack whimpered, his breath forming clouds in the chill air.

He was naked from the waist up; his snowsuit was gone and there were huge rents in the fabric of his jeans, as if Wuya had tried to cut his pants off, but had gotten bored. He still wore his ski boots with the broken fragments of skis still attached.

Wuya was standing a few feet away, an evil smirk on her face.

"Awake now, are we?" She asked sweetly. "I told you I'd get your clothes off, Jack."

"Still didn't get into my pants," Jack tried to joke.

"Well, I thought they might be helpful for what I had in mind," Wuya said.

The witch stroked her cheek. There was a red mark where Jack had slapped her.

"You've learned to play rough, Jack. Was it because of Chase needing you? Did you learn to be a man by caring for that evil child? Interesting concept."

"Ch-Chase isn't a threat to you now!" Jack cried. "Just leave him alone; he doesn't even know who you are now."

"No, no he isn't, is he? A threat, I mean. I keep very close tabs on those who are a threat to me and Chase has dropped off that list. However, someone else took his place." Wuya leaned in close and pushed the up the right sleeve of her dress up, revealing the vivid scar. "Someone very surprising. Can you guess who?"

"I - I don't want to be a threat to you, Wuya," Jack stammered. "I _really_ don't. I just want to protect Chase. I want to keep him."

"Awww; I never would have taken you for the fatherly type, Jack. But you see; this leaves me in a quandary. I have a reputation to uphold, after all," Wuya fingered her scar. "If word got around that I let the pathetic Jack Spicer wound me and didn't make him pay for it, no one would respect me anymore. Even if you aren't as pathetic as you once were. In fact," Wuya stroked a dark skinned finger down Jack's chest. "Given your sudden . . . .ferocity, I'm all for exploring what other mad passions were hiding inside that milk-white skin."

Jack started to shake from the cold.

"Oh, what's the matter, Jack? Are you cold?" Wuya asked.

"Of course I'm cold, you stupid bitch!" Jack snapped, trying to wriggle away from the witch's stroking fingers.

"No. Right now you are merely chilly. I'm here to make sure you die from the cold, you finicky little princess!" Wuya held up the instrument of Jack's demise.

A garden hose.

"Oh god . . .no, Wuya, whatever you want, I'll do it! You want me to fuck you, I'll . . . Well, I'll _try_ to keep it up."

Apparently the Heylin witch took offense to the insinuation that Jack would have to try to be aroused for her, for she pointed the hose at Jack and squeezed the handle.

At this temperature, the cold water delivered not the sensation of cold, but flat out pain. Jack screamed hoarsely as his naked body was soaked with water. The hanging shreds of his jeans soaked and clung to his legs, leeching even more body heat away.

The albino genius's screams echoed through the pine trees, gradually dwindling until Jack was whimpering and gasping, any words he tried to choke out undecipherable through his violently chattering teeth.

"Now _that's_ cold," Wuya said.

The witch watched Jack shake and twist for a few minutes, then walked around and leaned against the fence next to him casually, as if they were two friends hanging out.

"Now _don't_ think that this is easy for me. I mean, we've been through a lot together, flesh and ghost. I suppose you were the closest thing I ever had to a son. Well, that half-djinn monstrosity I aborted back in the eighth century was the closest thing I had to a son, but you get my drift."

Jack choked out a few proto-sounds that might have been words. His body was seized with violent muscular contractions as it fought against the ropes that held it upright.

"So maybe not my son. Maybe the annoying friend of my son that grew up to be surprisingly hot. But you weren't interested in me. Come on now, Jack; you can tell me. You like men, don't you?"

"Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-y-ya," Jack spluttered hoarsely.

"What is it, Jack? Did you want to tell me something?" The witch asked leaning down so that he face was near the albino youth's.

Jack tore one ski boot free from the snow and drove it into Wuya's stomach. One ski boot still sporting the jagged, broken fiberglass end of a ski.

"F-f-f-f-uck y-y-you," He growled, glaring into the startled witch's eyes.

Wuya fell back with a scream, blood fountaining from the wound. Jack barely spared her a glance, but brought his other boot, also sporting a jagged ski fragment up and around to slam into the privacy fence just below his tied up wrist.

The sharp edge cut through the clothesline, even if a stabbing pain in Jack's haunch warned him that he had pulled a muscle and, as he tore his arm free, he saw that he had cut his wrist a little bit as well. It would be nice to think it would matter someday.

Ignoring the witch bleeding and crying in the snow, Jack kicked up with the bloodstained ski and cut through the second clothesline.

This little plan of escape had exhausted what little reason he had left; all other logic cells had shut down from the cold.

Now the 'lizard brain' took over; the instinctive reasoning inherent to all animals, the force that urged wild creatures to survive above all else. That force said:

'Too cold. Get warm.'

Jack looked around and saw the cabin. Cabins were warm. The albino genius staggered through the snow and practically crawled the last few feet to the front door, ice cracking off of his jeans.

Locked.

Had he been in shape to think about things, he would have cast around for a piece of metal, perhaps a hidden key somewhere.

'Get inside **now** or you're going to die,' The lizard brain said.

Jack drove his elbow through one of the decorative glass windows on either side of the door, then reached through and unlocked the door. Later, he'd be amazed at how easily the glass broke under his blow. Now he staggered inside, feeling his extremities starting to go numb.

The temperature was set low; just high enough to keep the water pipes from freezing. The maybe 50 degrees was warmer than outside, but still ensured Jack would succumb to hypothermia before too long.

'Water pipes,' The lizard brain said. 'Showers are hot.'

The tech wizard stumbled through the house until he located a bathroom. Hoping like hell the owners hadn't turned off the hot water heater in their absence, Jack turned on the hot water full blast. After maybe thirty seconds of cold, steam started to fill the air.

Jack Spicer let out a strangled cry of relief and fell forward into the spray.

* * *

Out in the yard, Wuya forced herself to apply pressure over the wound in her stomach. Glaring up at the cabin, the Heylin witch fumed. Jack had wounded her _again_; while he was bound and freezing, no less! The white-skinned bastard!

Wuya forced herself to stand.

This wouldn't stand! She'd kill him! For certain this time!

After one step, the red-haired witch hesitated.

Jack was inside the house now; he would be warming up, regaining his strength, arming himself. He wasn't wounded. And he was starting to develop a talent for lashing out from a position of weakness.

Wuya shuffled back another step.

Perhaps she should wait. Yes, wait and recuperate before attacking the youth again.

Revenge was a dish best served cold.

"Longi Kite!"

* * *

"Jesus," Clay muttered, looking at the snow around the cabin. There were signs of a struggle; footprints, body prints, blood stains in the snow.

"Where's my daddy?" Little Chase asked from his place in Clay's arms.

"Oh, I don't think he got far," The Dragon of Earth muttered.

Omi was wading through the snow towards the cabin.

"There is a trail of blood drops leading towards the house! Perhaps this is the path Jack Spicer took!"

"Yeah, look; the window's broken!" Rai observed, running towards the cabin.

All of the monks headed up to the cabin, Clay reaching down and pulling the struggling Dragon of Water from the drifts as he passed.

Once inside, the sound of water running led them straight to the prone form of Jack Spicer, his blue-white skin starting to turn red where the hot water sluiced over it.

"Jesus," Clay muttered again.

"We need to get him back to the Temple. Like, _now_," Raimundo declared.


	11. The Worst Day Since Yesterday

The door to the Temple infirmary thudded open and the largest Dragon walked through, Jack Spicer cradled in his arms. The beefy cowboy gave the tech genius a dark look.

"I oughta drop you after what you done in that restaurant, Spicer," He growled. "But that can wait 'til after yer back on yer feet."

Spicer didn't reply; his slim body was exhausted from the skiing, the fleeing and the fight, not to mention the down home remedy for the chill: immersion in hotter and hotter water until the chill was gone from his body. According to Clay, it worked a treat on early calves.

It had worked a treat on Jack, too.

The sometimes Evil Genius was bundled up in a warm sweater, pants, and socks. The Dragon of the Earth tucked the smaller youth into a bed in the infirmary and sat down wearily next to him.

"Maybe I'll just put yer hand in some warm water or sumthin'," he groused.

"You were nicer to him than I would be," Kimiko said, entering the infirmary. "It's hard to believe this all started over these ugly things."

The Dragon of Fire held up the tacky pink Glasses of Bi Shi.

"Have you figured out what them things do yet?" Clay sighed, leaning back.

"No, I tried them a couple of times outside and they didn't do anything. They kind of glowed pink, but nothing changed or looked different. Glasses of Bi Shi!"

Kimiko slipped the glasses onto her face and looked around the room.

"Anythin'?" Clay asked.

"No. Everything looks exactly the same t--," The Japanese girl broke off sharply.

The single most handsome man she had ever seen was sitting next to the bed.

Kimiko's jaw sagged open as her eyes feasted on the sight before her. The man was handsome in the rugged, fierce way that could only be right in untamed lands and on the covers of the trashier brand of romance novels. A jaw so chiseled you could crack rocks on it framed a very sensual mouth and blue eyes that glittered like the sins of angels. A frail curtain of golden hair fell over one eye in a way that made her insides do funny, flippity-floppy things. A light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks added a touch of innocence to that gorgeously sinful face, as if he'd only chew you up and spit you out in a way you'd _really_ enjoy.

As if the gorgeous face wasn't enough, the body went along with it was hot enough to cook breakfast on.

Shoulders nearly a yard wide strained the seams of the well-worn denim shirt he filled out with all muscle. Those broad shoulders tapered down to a slim waist and the longest legs Kimiko had ever seen.

The Japanese girl would have bet money he had an absolutely delectable ass, but unfortunately he was sitting on it at the moment, those uber-long legs stretched out in front of him to cross at the ankles.

"Are they doin' sumthin' now?" The vision of masculinity asked.

Kimiko felt her head tilt to one side, a confused look gracing her features. True, while watching that extremely kissable mouth work brought on a flood of estrogen that drowned most of her functioning brain cells, Super Mega Hot Cowboy Man spoke with _Clay's_ voice.

A few strong swimmers from her cerebral cortex managed to point out that she should refrain from jumping on the tall drink of water before her and screaming: 'I want your babies!' long enough to notice that he was also wearing Clay's clothes and sitting in Clay's chair.

"C-Clay?"

One sculpted eyebrow rose and the Western God of Sex gave her a sidelong look that made her knees buckle.

"Ye-ah . . . who'd you think I was, li'l lady?"

Kimiko swayed dangerously at the use of that affectionate term. She tore the Glasses of Bi Shi from her eyes and looked at Clay.

Plain old Clay.

"What'd they do?" he asked.

Kimiko stared down at the wu in her hands, then raised them to her eyes. Texas Heat Incarnate was back, his lips slightly parted in confusion. Kimiko tucked her chin, peering out over the glasses. Plain old Clay was giving her an odd look.

The Dragon of Fire raised her chin: Maverick Sexiness. She lowered her chin: Clay.

"What are you doin'?" Clay asked.

"Nothing," Kimiko said innocently, tilting her head back.

"Let me see them glasses," the Dragon of Earth said, his brows starting to knit.

"No. Could you stand up and turn around for minute?"

"What for?" Clay demanded.

"Humor me," Kimiko said.

They were interrupted by Omi and Little Chase running into the infirmary. The little boy had a hot bath while Jack was treated and was now wearing a set of Omi's pajamas.

"Daddy!" Little Chase wailed, running to his father.

Kimiko looked down as the most singularly beautiful child she had ever seen dashed past the romance novel cover cowboy and scrambled up onto the bed with—

The Dragon of Fire felt her knees go weak again.

If Clay through the Glasses of Bi Shi was the picture of masculinity, Jack Spicer was the picture of ethereal beauty. Skin as white as moonlight glowed against the dark blankets of the infirmary bed, while crimson red hair streaked across the black blankets and white skin like blood on snow and stone. The pale vision's features were fine and sharp, elegant in a way Kimiko had never considered before. The thick black lashes fanned against his pale cheeks like puffs of charcoal. All in all, he looked like some kind of sexy, tragic vampire.

"Do not cry, little Chase Spicer! Your daddy will be fine! Is that not so, Kimiko?" Omi said, trying to be reassuring.

Kimiko reluctantly tore her eyes away from the beautiful sight before her to look at Omi.

And oh Lord, was he cute.

Omi was just a little round, chubby-cheeked cherub with the most darling black eyes she'd ever seen. Kim was overcome with the sudden urge to bake him cookies. She slipped the Glasses of Bi Shi off of her nose, watching as the pink glow surrounding them faded.

"These are now my new favorite wu," she announced to no one in particular.

Clay got up and crossed the room in two strides.

"Let me see them glasses," he said suspiciously, holding out one large hand.

Kimiko was glad she had already deactivated the Glasses, because she didn't think she could have said no to Sexy Cowboy.

"Um . . .no," she muttered, hiding them behind her back.

Without any further ado, she fled the infirmary, the Dragon of the Earth right on her heels.

Little Chase snuggled under the covers with Jack, whimpering softly to himself. Crimson eyes opened a crack as Chase jostled his adoptive father.

"C-Chase?" Jack groaned.

"Daddy!"

Jack smiled weakly and one hand came up to stroke the shrunken warlord's hair.

"How's my little man? Are you okay, buddy?" he asked.

Chase nodded, pressing his face against Jack's chest to hide the tears that were swimming in his eyes.

"Th-the witch took you," Chase whimpered.

"Not for long," Jack rasped. "I gut-stabbed her with a broken ski. She'll think twice about messing with me again."

Chase's eyes shone as he looked up at his adoptive father.

"Where are we?" Jack asked.

"The Xiaolin Temple," Chase reported. "Omi gave me a bath and some tea."

Jack gave his charge a sidelong look.

"You like Omi, huh?"

Little Chase nodded.

"I guess some things never change," Jack growled.

"What?"

"Never mind," Jack muttered. "I guess we can hang out here for a few days. You okay with that?"

Chase whined softly.

"I wanna go home."

"We will," Jack said softly. "Just let me rest a little while, okay? Take my phone and call RJ 13. He'll bring over anything you need."

"Okay," Chase murmured.

"That's my boy," Jack breathed, letting his eyes drift closed. Within a few minutes, he was wrapped in a deep, healing sleep.

Chase remained curled against Jack's side, dozing lightly. After about an hour he slid out of bed and went to the part of the infirmary where the albino genius's personal effects had been stored. He dug Jack's cell phone out of a pocket and hit the button to dial direct to Spicer's robots.

* * *

RoboJack Unit 13 eyed the group of Cheerbots chatting in a corner of Master Jack's lab. The Cheerbots were the source of constant vexation to RJ 13. Their shape and appearance called to him, cried out for his touch, yet . . . RJ 13 was the only robot Master Jack had created that had genitalia or a sex drive.

He tried to convince the female-shaped robots that he could make them feel good, but they weren't up for his brand of experimentation. RJ 13 turned to appliances when he had to, but one day he would bag himself a Cheerbot.

The boy-shaped robot sauntered casually across the lab and offered a poetic line that metaphorically indicated how the Cheerbots beauty contributed to the state of his arousal.

"Hey there, girls. The genetic expressions of your physiognomy and body soma type have my cerebral cortex pumping out wild signals to my hypothalamus gland."

He had worked on that line all night.

The four Cheerbots gave him a flat, confused look.

"We don't have genes," Chrissy said.

"And _you _don't have a cerebral cortex, weirdo," Jenny seconded. "You have a central processor."

"He's just trying to impress us by _saying_ we cause the neural pattern of male sexual arousal," Deidre sighed.

"It was . . . . poetic license," RJ 13 offered. "I thought you might find it flattering."

"Don't fall for that stuff!" Amber cried. "I gave him the benefit of the doubt the other day and he tried to stick his _tongue_ into my _mouth_."

"Eeeeewwww!" The other Cheerbots chorused.

"That's kissing!" RJ 13 protested. "Humans do it all the time; it's pleasurable."

"You're really strange, you know that?!" Chrissy said. "Go try to mate with the washing machine again."

The other Cheerbots laughed hysterically at this and headed for another part of the lab, leaving RJ 13 standing forlornly by himself.

His central processor patched a call through. It was on Master Jack's line, but from Master Chase. RJ 13 listened to the instructions and answered dully.

"Yes. Yes, I understand. I'll be there shortly . . . . . that as well? All right; if you say so."

* * *

"Hey Clay, you seen Little Chase?" Raimundo asked the big cowboy as they passed each other in the hallway.

The Dragon of the Earth paused, his shoulders stiff.

"'Cause it's quiet around here and if I know little kids, that means trouble," Rai continued.

Clay turned around, his hat held upside down before him.

"I ain't seen him since _this_ happened," the Texan said darkly.

Raimundo looked down at what the ten-gallon hat held. It was filled with Clay's hand whittled cowboys and Indians toys; or rather, it was filled with the _pieces_ of the toys. The Dragon of the Wind picked up a fragment of a mule skinner and studied it.

"Are those teeth marks?" he inquired.

"Li'l Chase said, 'Let's play Donner Party,'" Clay growled. With a sigh he turned back towards his sleeping stall. "If you find him, keep it t' yourself. I got whittlin' t' do."

Rai grimaced and continued searching the Temple.

Presently he found the shrunken warlord, working diligently with glue and scissors and singing softly to himself. It would have been cute if you didn't actually listen to the words.

"_I'm not much of a man by the light of day_

_But at night I'm one hell of a lover!_

_I'm just a sweet transvestite_

_From transsexual Transylvaniaaaa ha ha!_"

Raimundo grimaced. What kind of a parent was Jack? He dragged a child along to see _Rocky Horror Picture Show_? The kid was going to grow up warped for sure. Then the young leader took note of the fabrics piled around Chase.

Kimiko's clothes.

Kimiko's clothes with little pieces cut out of them.

Raimundo sucked in a deep breath.

"Oh my God, little dude! What are you doing?! Kimiko's going to kill you! Why are you cutting up her clo—," Rai stopped talking abruptly.

Chase was holding Ninja Fred.

Ninja Fred had just gained a new wardrobe, not to mention a new and questionable lifestyle.

A tight vest of python-print pleather encased the teddy bear's chest. Gloves of the same were wrapped around the toy's front paws while a pair of Kimiko's black pantyhose had been plundered for the back paws. A string of simple pearls had been cut down for a necklace, while the Dragon of Fire's makeup kit had furnished mascara, lipstick and even fake eyelashes.

Raimundo was certain he stopped breathing for a moment.

"OMIGODwhatdidyoudotohim?! You got gay germs all over my bear!"

"My bear!" Chase wailed, clutching the toy to his chest.

"He is not!" Rai protested. The Dragon of the Wind lunged for Chase, only to overshoot his target as the shrunken warlord shot for the door with startling speed, Ninja Transvestite Fred clutched tightly in his arms.

"My bear! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!" The little boy screamed, dashing out into the courtyard.

"Like hell you little brat! Give me back my bear!" Rai screeched.

The Dragon of the Wind was an inch away from grabbing the little boy when a dark figure descended from the skies. Raimundo lunged back, blinking in confusion.

"Jack? But you're—" the dark skinned youth took note of the unnaturally perfect symmetry of the face and the serial number printed on the newcomer's cheek. "Oh. You're a RoboJack."

Little Chase ran right up to the automaton and hid under the trailing edge of his trench coat. RJ 13 peered down at child.

"Master Chase, I came as instructed," RJ 13 sighed as the helipack on his back retracted into itself.

"Later, you pathetic example of copy failure! I owe Chibi Chase here a beating for stealing and trashing my bear!" Rai snarled.

"Your bear? Does that mean you don't want Jack-Bear anymore?" RJ asked, producing the deadly toy.

One golden eye peered out from between the dark folds of fabric. A moment later Ninja Transvestite Fred was ejected forcibly from under RJ 13's trench coat and Little Chase snatched up Jack-Bear.

"You turned him into a cross-dressing he-she and now you're just going to throw him away! Aw hell, no!" Rai lunged for the hiding child.

A mechanical hand closed around his wrist and squeezed.

"You aren't to harm Master Chase. I'm permitted to override Security Precaution Alpha to protect him," the robot murmured.

"That means he can kill you!" The child announced.

"What?!" Omi appeared in the courtyard, looking shocked at the declaration. "RoboJack! You will not be allowed to kill anyone here!"

With a leap and a deft spin, the Dragon of Water landed in a fighting stance before the robot.

"I am permitted to override Security Precaution Alpha to protect Master Chase," RJ 13 repeated, slinging Raimundo away from him.

"And that means he can and _will_ kill to protect Chase," Jack announced.

The albino genius leaned against the doorway of the infirmary, a thick blanket wrapped around himself. Jack took a look at his robot double.

"You look pissed. What happened?" he asked.

"Cheerbots," RJ 13 growled.

"Ah."

Pounding footsteps echoed off of the flagstones and the two remaining monks tore into the courtyard.

"What's going on? Who's killing who?!" Kimiko cried.

"Nobody's killin' anybody!" Clay stressed. "We all jest need t' calm down an'—"

The Dragon of Earth broke off sharply when he saw the Glasses of Bi Shi perched on Kimiko's head. With a speed most didn't know him capable of; the big Texan snatched the Shen Gong Wu from his teammate.

"Glasses of Bi Shi!"

"Clay! Nooooo!" Kimiko squealed, grabbing at the cowboy. There was no way she could leap up to grab the wu away from the much taller warrior.

The glasses began to glow pink.

Clay looked at the warriors spread out before him.

Blonde brows shot up towards his hat brim then slowly drew back down to knit sharply.

Clay tore the glasses off of his face and hurled them away.

"Kimiko, you pervert! I ain't never lettin' you near me with those again!"

Jack didn't seem to notice the cowboy's disgust or bothered to wonder what had caused such a reaction. He only saw a pair of Shen Gong Wu that had been dropped literally at his feet. The albino half pounced, half fell forward onto the discarded glasses.

"No!" Omi, Kimiko, and Rai howled in the same breath.

The Dragon of the Wind drew the Sword of the Storm.

"Fork over the Wu, Spicer!" Rai cried, flashing forward.

Unfortunately for the Shoku leader, RJ 13 was still standing between Raimundo and Jack and he was still in a pissy mood. As finely toned muscles propelled the young warrior forward, RJ 13 stuck out a leg crafted from titanium alloy and tripped Rai.

The Xiaolin monk went ass over teakettle. The Sword of the Storm flew out in front of him, skipping across the flagstones.

Jack lunged forward.

The Xiaolin monks did the same.

Jack, Raimundo, Kimiko, Omi and Clay all ended up with their fingers touching the fabled sword.

"I challenge you all to a Xiaolin Showdown!" Jack howled.

"Name your game, Spicer," Clay snorted. "You kin barely stand, let alone fight."

"Yes. Whatever you choose it is certain you shall become legless far faster than we!" Omi boasted.

Jack blinked.

Legless?

Legless was British slang for drunk. And what were the chances four athletes sat down to punish their livers on a weekly basis?

"Raimundo, Kimiko, Clay, Omi, I challenge you all to a Xiaolin Drinking Contest!"


	12. Punch Drunk Grinning Fool

"The rules are simple, boys and girls," Jack began

"The rules are simple, boys and girls," Jack began. "We drink until we drop. Everyone tries it as an individual. No passing out and no regurgitation."

"What about bathroom breaks?" Kimiko asked.

"'Breaking the seal' is fine if that's how you want to play it," the albino allowed. "I wager the Glasses of Bi Shi and the Lotus Twister against Golden Tiger Claws and the Tongue of Saiping!

"Hold it!" Rai commanded. "You _never_ suggest a contest unless you're really sure you can win it."

"So?" smirked Jack.

"So, the contest isn't over until EVERY LAST ONE OF US has dropped on either team. That means us four or you."

Jack grinned and shrugged. "Fine."

Kimiko scowled. "Have you taken anything that will let you win this? Drugs or something?"

"Drugs? What kind of drugs help you not get drunk? No, Kimiko, I'm just confident in my conditioning," Jack said with a grin. "Even though the Japanese are just a nation of violent drunks, I think I could take you."

"Daddy?" Little Chase asked.

"You're fine, buddy. RJ 13 will look after you," Jack called.

The android stepped forward and picked up the shrunken warlord, balancing him on one hip.

Kimiko squealed in anger, but before she could yell at him, Little Chase kicked free of RJ-13 and ran to Jack.

"No! I want my Daddy!" the little boy cried plaintively.

"Awwwww," she murmured when Jack scooped him up for a hug, feeling herself melt reluctantly. "So cute!"

Her fellow Dragons gave her annoyed looks, but she ignored them.

"Hey, buddy, what's the matter?" Jack asked. "I'm going to be right here; I'm not doing anything that'll get me hurt. I'm just going to beat the losers in a contest. You want to watch Daddy beat the losers?"

"Mmmm-hmm," Chase answered with a shy nod.

"Well, Daddy's going to kick butt; just you watch. Hey! I bet RJ 13 could find you something to eat. He's got the whole layout for the Temple programmed into his memory bank."

Little Chase shook his head vigorously and clung tightly to Jack.

"Nuh-uh! Wanna be able t' see you!" he said, cuddling close and pouting slightly.

He was very, very afraid that the mean people would hurt his Daddy if he wasn't there to help.

Kimiko squealed again, but it was a noise of intense glee at the sight of so much affectionate cuteness.

Raimundo and Clay rolled their eyes, while Omi grimaced.

"Enough of this baby-talking and cuddly-ing!" he shouted. "Let us get down to the business of drinking!"

Jack snorted, still cuddling Chase close.

"Just wait, Cheeseball, we'll get to it." The albino youth hugged his adoptive son. "Tell ya what, Chase; you can stay and watch but if any of the losers get too loopy, you'll have to go sit with RJ 13, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," Little Chase said, snuggling against Jack. His Daddy was so warm and soft and smelled so good! He loved his Daddy so much, and gave Jack a kiss on the cheek to prove it.

"Girls," Raimundo muttered when Kimiko squee'd again and almost puddled to the ground in a frenzy of affection.

Jack hummed with the delight at the sloppy child kiss to his cheek.

"Shut your flan-hole," the albino announced. "Let's get this party started. Let's go; Xiaolin Showdown!"

Around the monks, the familiar grounds of the Temple began to rearrange themselves into tall stands of alcohol; a large tank for every player in the showdown, labeled with their names. Around the stands, a polished bar rose from the ground, tall stools coming up at the perfect height for each individual monk.

"Gong Yi Tempai!"

The monks quickly hopped into their assigned seats and then looked at each other awkwardly.

"Uh... what're we drinkin'?" Clay asked.

"Beer," Jack said as he slid onto his assigned stool. "The same beer, in the same amounts."

The monks nodded, but Omi frowned and said, "I thought children were not supposed to drink beer?"

"They aren't," Jack answered flatly. "Maybe you should leave this one for your teammates."

Omi leaped to his feet on his bar stool and pointed at Jack, enraged.

"You will not to be calling me a child, you imbibing gin-chimp!" he yowled.

Little Chase stood up on his Daddy's lap and pointed back at Omi.

"Don't you call my Daddy names, you crazy yellow weirdo!" he screamed back.

"Now, now," Clay drawled soothingly. "We can all fight when we're drunk."

Jack snorted and picked up the mug of beer that slid towards his hand.

"Fine; you want to get shit-faced, Omi, you go right ahead. RJ 13!"

"Yes, Master?"

"Go to the kitchen and get Chase some juice and cookies."

"Yes, Master," the robot turned and headed towards the kitchen as if he was right at home.

"So!" Kimiko snapped. "Since the Japanese are 'a nation of violent drunks', get ready to get your butt whooped, Spicer!"

The albino genius lifted his glass.

"Kampai," he challenged with a grin.

Little Chase watched as his Daddy lifted the mug and drank the beer in neat, long swallows; as if the liquid were no more than water. He grinned and snuggled against his Daddy. No way Daddy was going to lose! Daddy could almost outdrink Nana Spicer!

The monks lifted their mugs and began drinking. They all choked at the taste of it, grimacing, but began gulping it down as quickly as they could to get the sour taste out of their mouths.

Almost immediately upon emptying his mug, Omi stared wide-eyed at his companions with a shocked look on his face.

"Uh-oh," Rai said, closing his eyes and covering his ears.

Clay quickly followed suit, but Kimiko wasn't fast enough.

She watched, horrified, as Omi let out a raucous hiccup, followed by a truly obscene belch that led the way to the tiny yellow body contorting viciously as Omi vomited up the beer he'd swilled plus his dinner.

An instant later, the monk's unconscious body plopped to the ground -- directly into the puddle he'd made.

Kimiko groaned and curled up into a ball, struggling to breathe properly to quell her nausea.

Jack laughed at the disgusting spectacle and hitched Chase further up into his lap.

"Oh yeah, I need an edge to win against you guys. You can't even drink a beer without gagging. I should have thought of this earlier."

As Jack put the empty mug on the bar, another one came sliding out from his 'stand' and slid towards his hand.

"Is he alright?" Clay grunted, setting his empty mug down and letting the next one slide to him.

Kimiko peered quickly, and then glanced away with a shudder. "He's still breathing."

Raimundo gulped down the last of his beer, shuddered, and took hold of the next mug.

"Alright, then," he said roughly. "Let's get..."

He trailed off, gaping as he watched Jack Spicer down the second mug as if he didn't need to breathe air.

Jack flashed him a grin and a wink as the third mug slapped into his palm.

Quickly, the monks choked down their second mugs of beer.

After a few minutes, RJ 13 came back with Chase's snack. Grimacing at the sight of Omi laying in a puddle of his own puke, the automaton fished the little monk out and dunked him in a fountain until he was more or less clean. At Jack's request, he even found a hose and washed up the puke puddle.

The monks and Jack continued to down beer the whole while.

It wasn't long, though, before the monks were showing signs of being completely soused.

Rai hiccupped, burped, and then peered around blearily at Clay.

"Yo, dude," he warbled.

"Whaaaaaaaaaaat?" Clay groaned, holding his hat to his head firmly; convinced it was gonna float away if he didn't.

"Is it hic! true yer beeeeeeeeeeeelch! sister's a lesbian?" Rai asked, holding onto the bar to steady himself.

Clay's eyes bugged out while Kimiko dropped her head into her arms and laughed.

"What?!" Clay roared, the shock of anger clear his senses slightly. "What in 'tarnation--?!"

"Well... y'know... dykes on bikes, baby!" Raimundo cackled, leering. "Leader of an all-girl biker club... an', let's face it, _really_ butch..."

Kimiko howled with laughter and struggled to stay on her bar stool.

"Pedrosa..." Clay began growling.

Rai saved himself by fainting and falling from his bar stool.

Kimiko only laughed harder, peeing herself.

Clay sighed, grabbed the next mug of beer, and muttered, "Jerk."

Jack sighed gustily.

"Don't listen to them, Clay," the albino called. "I don't think Jessie's a lesbian. I hope Jessie ain't a lesbian. Wait until she sees me bein' all paternal."

Clay swung around and glared angrily at Jack.

"You keep yer filthy evil mitts away from muh sister!" he bellowed.

His mistake was trying to stand. Quite suddenly, every last drop of beer he'd swilled decided to cut him out at the knees.

Clay keeled over; unable to keep his balance, and whacked his head against the bar as he fell.

Knocked cold, the Texan cowboy was down for the count.

Jack looked down at the big blond stretched out across the floor.

"Well damn," he slurred, starting to feel the alcohol.

"Who's Jessie, Daddy?" Chase asked.

"This big lug's surprisingly hot sister," Jack answered. "She tricked me out of Shen Gong Wu and wrecked my bots, took back her gang . . . . heck of a gal. I thought she turned me off of girls entirely when I first saw . . . ."

The albino trailed off, a strange, thoughtful look crossing his features.

Little Chase reached up and touched his tiny hand to Jack's face. "Daddy...?"

Jack shook his head, but smiled at Chase and dotted a kiss onto the small palm.

"D'awwwwwwwww... that's _so cute!"_ Kimiko gushed drunkenly.

The albino looked over at the reeling Japanese girl.

"What . . . what d'you see when you look at us, Kimiko?" he asked. "Do you see some weedy little geek and his brat? Or do you see a genius who's starting to grow up? Do you see how beautiful my baby boy is? Do you . . . . . you know exactly how beautiful he's going to be?"

Jack stroked a long finger along Chase's round, soft cheek.

"My baby boy . . . "

Kimiko shook her head. "I see Jack Spicer holdin' a really tiny Chase Young," she muttered. "An' wonderin' what we're gonna do for _real_ evil t' battle, 'cause ain't no way you can take _us_ on without gettin' us drunk."

Jack scowled.

"I suppose telling you I took out Wuya when I was naked, freezing and tied to a fence wouldn't make any difference to you, would it? Maybe _I'll _be your guys' main badass again. Maybe _I'll_ be the one to teach Chase Young how to be evil."

Kimiko laughed. "Yeah, right. Nobody's ever gonna top Chase Young. Ain't never gonna be evil like Chase Young inna world again now he's gone. The Good Guys got no real competition..."

Mumbling the last bit, the alcohol claimed her and she slipped from her bar stool with a soft groan as she tumbled into unconsciousness.

Jack held very still.

He sat like a statue as the Showdown ended. He continued staring straight ahead as the Temple returned to normal and the Shen Gong Wu he had won appeared in his lap with Chase. He drew in a deep breath as the alcohol magically disappeared from his system and left him clear-headed and sparklingly lucid.

On the ground around him, the monks transitioned from drunken unconsciousness to simple sleep.

Chase bounced on Jack's lap, clapping his hands gleefully.

"You won, Daddy! I knew you would! My Daddy's the bestest Daddy _ever!"_ Little Chase cried happily, and threw his arms around Jack's neck in a tight hug.

Jack hugged the toddler back.

"I'm the bestest Daddy ever?" The albino genius pulled back and looking at the charming toddler on his lap. "But I'm not the bestest bad guy ever. Do you think _you_ could be the bestest bad guy ever, Chase?"

Chase giggled and shook his head. "Why'd I need to, Daddy? You're here!"

"I mean when you all grown up!" Jack clarified, tickling the child lightly. "Yes . . . when you're all grown, you'll be the fiercest warrior ever . . . a Tai Chi master . . . Chase Young." Jack sighed roughly. "Crap. I made a mistake . . . I need to fix this."

"Daddy?" Chase asked, confused and a little worried. He didn't understand what Daddy was talking about, but he knew Daddy meant ihimi. He hooked a finger into his mouth and asked hesitantly, "Daddy? Don't you love me?"

"Oh God, of _course_ I do!" Jack blurted instantly. He hugged the child tight to his chest. "I love you, Chase! Of course I do; that why I need to fix something. I can't let you grow up . . . afraid and living in my parents' house." Jack pulled back slightly, looked into his son's big golden eyes and decided the best policy was to lie like he had never lied before.

"You see, Chase; your mommy was really an evil princess and she lived in a castle filled with lions and tigers! After you were born and she kicked me out, that's when Wuya came along and _stole_ the castle and chased your Mommy away . . . uh . . and put a spell on you so you don't remember anything," he added quickly. "But I can't let you grow up in a regular house; you're an evil Prince, Chase. You _need_ your castle."

Chase's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open, his finger and hand falling away in his surprise.

"I'm a _prince?_" he whispered, thrilled.

"My little Prince of Darkness," Jack observed, stroking his hand down that fall of green-black hair. "But we have to take back your throne; we have to defeat the evil witch."

Chase hugged his Daddy tightly. "I don't care about bein' a prince! I just wanna stay with you!"

Jack Spicer hugged the little boy close and for a moment, the future of evil hung in the balance. But as heartbreaking as losing Little Chase would be, Jack didn't think he could stand a world that was so empty and pointless as to not have a Chase Young in it.

"Let's go beat Wuya once and for all," Jack whispered.

RJ 13 appeared beside the pair, reached under his trench coat and drew Jack's silver SS sword.

"You can't storm a castle without your sword, Master."


	13. You Won't Make A Fool Out of Me

Jack felt himself spin around, knew his back was exposed to Wuya and she'd be rushing in to take advantage of that before he could even think about spinning around again

Jack leapt through the portal left by the Golden Tiger Claws, the Tongue of Saiping around his neck and Little Chase tucked under one arm.

"Daddy?!" the child whimpered, wriggling fitfully.

"Shush, shush now, Chase," Jack murmured a lot more calmly than he felt. "You have to be a brave boy now."

'So I can give you up forever,' some nasty internal voice added. It stung; it hurt like hell, but the world needed Chase Young. A balance needed to be maintained between Good and Evil and Chase _was_ that balance. Jack would have to return him to his rightful form.

Jungle cat warriors began to appear from the shadows as Jack loped up the stairs towards Chase's throne room. The albino youth dug out the Tongue of Saiping.

"Warrior cats!" he called. "This boy is Chase Young; stuck in a child's form! I need the Eagle scope and the Fountain of Hui!"

Tigers and lions prowled forward cautiously, eyeing the pair.

"What proof do we have of this?" One large tiger growled in Classical Chinese.

Jack put Chase down and handed the boy the Golden Tiger Claws.

"Look at the pretty kitty, Chase," he prompted, turning the boy to face the ferocious animal.

The tiger prowled forward, sighting in on the small child.

There was a silken sound as Jack drew his sword.

"Not that I don't trust you, Hobbes," he muttered. "But the second he feels teeth, _you_ feel steel."

The tiger snarled, lifting its head to glare at Jack.

"You would be pulled down before you reached the door."

"Not before I made you into a rug."

A black panther ignored the dialogue between tiger and man and padded forward to look deep into Chase's wide eyes. The Sheba lifted her head and sniffed at the shrunken warlord. The boy balanced the Golden Tiger Claws in one hand and reached out hesitantly to pat the black leopard's nose.

"Nice kitty," he whispered.

"It _is_ Master," she declared. "Bring the Shen Gong Wu!"

Jack picked up Chase and balanced him on his hip, the sword still held in his opposite hand. As much as he trusted the warrior cats, some paternal instinct screeched at the sight of his little boy wandering around the man-eaters looking all bite-sized and tasty.

"Is Wuya here? She's tried to stop me before," he asked, scanning the balconies and doorways that lined the main hall.

"Has she?" the tiger growled. "She will not do so again. She rests upstairs from being wounded. Someone she's been battling has been defeating her soundly lately."

Jack couldn't help the small smile that curved his lip.

"Yeah . . . that'd be _ME_."

Given the facial characteristics of big cats, the disbelieving looks Jack received really shouldn't have been possible.

"Don't give me that look," Jack growled as the group began to move to another part of the palace, closer to Chase's dining room. "I've been protecting Chase. I've _HAD_ to improve."

Rumbling, amused chuffs echoed through the room.

"Hairballs," Jack snarled.

As they emerged into the new room, Jack could see the Fountain of Hui and the Eagle Scope set up in the middle of the floor. There was no hint of any place to store any other Shen Gong Wu and Jack reflected that for a guy who supposedly had no use for the things, Chase was pretty compulsive about hiding them.

"Must be the dragon instinct to hoard treasure," he muttered to himself.

"Wuya stirs!" A leopard called down.

The cats expected Jack to panic at that, but he simply took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his sword.

"Let's do this quick, then. I'm deactivating the Tongue of Saiping; I don't want it to interfere with this."

The albino youth quickly matched deed to word and slipped the Tongue from around his neck, again placing it in Little Chase's hands.

"Ready to grow up and be a big boy, Chase?" He inquired.

Little Chase stared up at his father with huge golden eyes. After a moment, he managed to nod. Whatever his daddy asked of him, Little Chase would do. He didn't want to disappoint his father.

Jack smiled.

"Here we go; Fountain of Hui! Eagle Scope!"

The two Shen Gong Wu began to glow before a shower of endless images poured from the Fountain of Hui, surrounding Jack and Chase. For a moment, they were random, endless, a river of facts pouring before their eyes.

"How do we return Chase Young to normal?" Jack called.

The stream of images and sound coalesced into one that hovered before him.

Jack blinked.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

* * *

Wuya moved down the stairs, moving stiffly against the pain in her belly. Something was going on downstairs; she could hear voices and movement. The warrior cats should have repelled any intruders without issue; she certainly hadn't heard a battle.

A lion crossed her path, holding the Eagle Scope in his mouth. It twitched its tail when it saw her and slunk off into the shadows.

The witch frowned. Why were the cats moving Chase's Shen Gong Wu around? They never did anything like that unless it was under Chase Young's direct orders. Green eyes widened slowly at the sound of _human_ movement down below. Wuya ignored the pain lancing through her body and flew down the stairs.

* * *

Little Chase sat at a big dinner table, in a big chair with pretty pink upholstery. He wasn't big enough to reach the table, so his daddy had found him an eight hundred year old lacquer ware box to sit on. The boy looked over at his daddy, who was digging through a nearby pantry and saying a lot of bad words.

"Gotta be fuckin' kidding me . . . . .Lao Mang Lone . . . this _whole_ time it's been dragon soup . . ." Jack growled.

"Daddy?" Chase called.

"Lunch is coming right up, buddy!" Jack called cheerfully.

"The kitties have gone," Chase reported.

"The cats left? Wuya must be moving around." Jack came out of the pantry holding a large porcelain bowl filled to the brim with steaming green soup. "I don't know where you keep the little dragon tail garnish, so you'll have to eat it plain."

Jack set the bowl in front of Chase.

"Bon apetit!"

For a moment, Little Chase stared down at the bowl in front of him. Then those golden eyes slid slowly back to Jack.

The albino reflected that, evil witch and killer cats aside, the hardest part of this might be convincing a toddler to eat something that looked and smelled like someone had boiled the contents of a mud puddle.

"I know. I know, Chase. But you need to eat it. Think of it like medicine; it's going to be yucky, but you'll feel much better afterwards."

A truly bratastic whine started up from Chase's throat and he twisted away from the bowl.

"I don't _WANNA_ eat this!" He wailed. "It looks like throw up!"

"I know, but –"

"It _smells_ like throw up!"

"Chase – "

"I'm not eating throw up!" The Heylin dragon lord turned toddler turned in his seat and tried to bury his head between the seat cushions. Given that he was still sitting on the box, he ended up with his tuckus sticking almost straight up.

Jack rubbed a hand over his face. If this weren't a matter of life and death, Chase's little tantrum would be _adorable_.

"Chase . . ."

"NO!"

"If you eat it, it will break the spell and you'll be able to remember your Mommy."

Chase pulled his head out from behind the box and stared hard at Jack.

A sharp roar caught the albino's attention.

"Shit! Wuya . . . eat your soup, Chase!"

The albino youth sprang to his feet and loped out of the dining room.

Jack emerged at the top of the stairs leading up to the dining room. Wuya was at the foot of the stairs, her arms crossed across her stomach. Her wound _had_ to be causing her pain; strangely, Jack found he didn't care in the slightest.

"Jack! What are you doing here?!" she gasped. Her green eyes were wide and even a tiny bit fearful.

"Just fixing something," Jack answered casually.

"Chase?!" Now the fear was obvious in her eyes.

"Yep. Don't!" He snapped as she started up the stairs. "You're just going to sit there while the spell works." Jack drew his sword just so she knew he meant business.

To his amazement and wicked glee, Wuya actually stopped when he said to.

For a moment.

Then a snarl twisted her features.

"Impudent brat! Do you have any idea what Chase will do to me when he returns to normal?" She shrieked.

Jack smirked.

"Yeah, I do," he breathed. "That's kind of the point."

Wuya gave a screech and rushed forward.

Jack gave a shout and did the same.

For what seemed like a long while, they danced; Jack slashing and thrusting awkwardly, but with force, Wuya kicking and punching in pained, short jabs. Despite his inexperience, Jack held his own until Wuya caught one of his sleeves, yanked him off balance and exposed his back.

Jack felt himself spin around, knew his back was exposed to Wuya and she'd be rushing in to take advantage of that before he could even think about spinning around again. Here she came, he could feel it. Without even really thinking about it, Jack took the dress sword and thrust it back under one of his arms.

And this time he remembered to keep the blade flat.

The witch made a . . . strange sound as she was impaled by the blade. Not quite a moan, not quite a shout, just a strangled vocalization of numb horror as the sword pierced her heart. The action should have brought her up short, but the witch's forward momentum brought her up to smack into Jack's back; all thoughts of kicking or striking him gone.

Jack continued to stare straight ahead as he felt the woman collapse against his back. He should have slung her off and finished the job before she could stab him or anything else detrimental to his health.

That's what Chase would have done.

Jack didn't do that. He froze; shivering slightly as he felt hot blood start to run down one leg and splatter to the stone floor. Wuya clung to him, making the smallest, most pathetic whimpers of sound imaginable. The sword felt heavy; so very heavy. Jack realized it was because the blade bore all of Wuya's weight; if he let go, she'd hit the floor.

"J – j – ack . . ." Wuya whimpered.

Jack shivered hard, still keeping his eyes forward.

"Jack . . . ." The witch coughed wetly and Jack felt hot blood spray across his shoulder and neck.

Not wanting at all to look at her, the albino man forced his head to turn to look into Wuya's green eyes.

"What do you want?" He asked hoarsely.

Against all expectation, Wuya smiled slightly.

"Why – why do I always fall for the men who end up killing me?" She asked.

Jack blinked in confusion, but before he could say anything, Wuya stretched up and kissed his cheek, leaving a lip print in her own blood. Jack shuddered hard and stepped forward, letting Wuya slide off of his sword and collapse in a bloody pile on the floor. The albino man stared down at her for a long moment, his eyes going ice-cold.

"Lady, you are seriously fucked up," he announced.

Wuya managed to force one last grin.

"Th – that's the same thing . . . . D – Dashi said . . ." she rasped.

Before Jack could express further disgust, the witch suddenly relaxed, shutting off in a subtle, yet somehow very obvious way.

Wuya was dead.

Spicer stood over the body of his fallen teacher-cum-rival for a moment, torn between saying a few words and collecting a trophy to present to Chase. In the end, he decided against either and staggered up the stairs to Chase's dining room, trying very hard not to notice the warlord's warrior cats closing in on the corpse with single-minded determination.

"Chase?" Jack called as he pushed aside one of the many curtains lining the room. "Chase? Did it work? Are you back to normal?"

At first glance, the room appeared empty. The single chair at Chase Young's table was unoccupied, though it still held a bowl and spoon. A bowl that had been turned over and the majority of Lao Mang Lone spilled across the table and floor.

Jack sagged.

"Chase! You didn't take your medicine?!" The albino crouched slightly to peer under the table. "You won't get better if you don't take it, you know!"

"I took enough," a smooth voice announced.

Jack straightened and whirled.

Standing in the shadows by the door was a boy wrapped in a torn curtain. It was definitely Chase; those golden eyes and pointed ears were better than a fingerprint. However . . . .

"You're still a kid," Jack observed.

Those finely arched brows drew down in a slight frown.

"I'm a _youth_, Spicer. Just as you are," Chase announced in a voice that still cracked in the middle of the sentence.

"You're, like, _ten_," Jack corrected as Chase stalked past him and pulled another can of Lao Mang Lone from a hidden shelf. "But, I guess it doesn't matter; you've got more dragon soup and Wuya's dead. You can drink more and get back to normal."

Chase paused as he set the can on the table.

"Dead?" Those youthful features arranged themselves in an expression of surprise. "_You_ killed Wuya?"

Too tired to argue that he was perfectly capable of finishing off an enemy, Jack simply held up his bloodstained sword.

"And . . . the kiss mark?" Chase asked, walking towards Jack slowly.

Spicer blinked, letting his fingers brush against his cheek, having forgotten that Wuya must have left a bloody kiss print on him.

"Ah. That. Um, apparently being killed really turned her on," he admitted, still a bit grossed out by the whole situation.

Chase prowled up to stare levelly at Spicer. Jack looked . . . . well, rather magnificent still flushed from battle, spattered with his enemy's blood, and bearing a brand of arousal in blood from the woman he had just killed. It was very . . . stirring.

And Jack was still so tall . . .

"My champion," Chase observed, a certain warmth coming into his voice. "You deserve to be rewarded for such selfless acts of violence in my honor."

"Oh yeah?" Jack said, perking up slightly.

"Yes," Chase confirmed. The still shrunken warlord reached up and hooked his arms around Jack's neck and arched his body against the albino man's. "It's what every warrior still hot from battle truly wants."

For a moment, Jack thought he could hear the sound of a record skipping from deep in his own brain.

"Uh . . . . ." He said eloquently.

"And you need not worry; if I were truly a child, I would not be having the feelings I have now," Chase purred, trailing a finger along Jack's jaw.

Jack snapped out of his dumbfounded state.

"So you're twelve instead of ten?! _That's_ comforting!" He snapped.

"Quiet, Spicer. I will return to my adult form at leisure; it's simply . . . . fun to see you as the 'big, strong champion' to this weaker form," Chase continued as if Jack hadn't spoken. "Let's enjoy ourselves."

The shrunken dragon lord leaned up, pulling himself upwards even as he pulled Jack down, his lips searching for his albino warrior's mouth.

Jack's hands hit Chase's shoulders _hard_, knocking the boy away from him.

"No! Chase, you're still a child to me! I can't get it on with a grade school kid! I can't even get it _up_! Finish your soup and _then_ we'll talk!" Jack cried.

Chase caught himself against the table, staring at Jack in shock.

"You refuse me?" He hissed. "_You_ refuse _me_?!"

"I'm not having sex with a _child_, Chase!" Jack yelled. "If you were in your grown up 'holy-shit-you're-hot-sex-on-toast-with-a-side-order-of-UNF!' body, then there'd be no talking. Unless the words "oh yeah" and "oh baby" and "harder" and "more" counted! But not until you get back to that!"

Chase glared at Jack for a long, long moment.

Without a word, he pulled open the can of Lao Mang Lone and poured the soup directly into the mostly empty bowl. A spell cast on the can long ago made the soup steaming hot as it poured out. Jack relaxed, letting the tip of his sword rest on the ground and not caring if it dribbled blood on Chase's fine carpet.

Chase took the now hot bowl of soup and lifted it to his lips, drinking quickly. Within a few minutes he had drained the bowl. The air around him shimmered and Chase began to grow. Shoulders broadened as muscles grew thicker and more defined. Childish traits disappeared as Chase Young grew into an adult before Jack's very eyes.

Then, the transformation was finished and Chase Young, Heylin dragon lord stood before Jack Spicer, naked except for a torn curtain wrapped around his waist.

Chase gave Jack a warm look and started to prowl towards the pale youth.

"Now _that's_ what I'm talkin' about!" Jack growled.

Chase gave the tech wizard his patented 'smug, sexy smirk' and leaned forward. Quick as a wink, one large hand was latched around Jack's throat and _squeezing_.

"You _insect_. You _worm_. You refused _me_. You are ten times the fool with your silly modern morals! Any warrior _worth_ my time would have known what to do with a beautiful young boy! How much of a fool are you, Spicer?!" The dragon lord snarled.

Jack didn't answer. He was too busy contemplating the sensations of asphyxiating while having his Adam's apple crushed simultaneously.

"Not only did you refuse me, you were _rude_ enough to _strike_ me in the process of doing so!"

A second hand joined the first around Jack's throat. The teenager's red eyes rolled upwards, near disappearing under his upper lids.

"The foolishness of being a youth again must have addled my thoughts, for there is no other reason I can imagine wanting to couple with the likes of you!" Chase roared.

There were no thoughts left in Jack's head; only pain and the desire to breathe again. And deep, deep down, the urge to fight back. Some instinctive urge tightened Jack's grip on his sword and brought it up sharply in a weak, awkward slash.

Chase ducked back, releasing his hold on Jack's neck. He avoided the strike with ease, watching dispassionately as Spicer collapsed to the floor gasping and coughing. Something caught the warlord's eye; a few strands of inky-black, shading to green where the light hit it just right, caught on the clots of blood still marring the blade of Jack's sword.

Chase's gold eyes grew wide.

"You _CUT_ my _**HAIR**_?!"

Jack managed to lift his head, still gurgling weakly.

"_INSECT_!!" Chase roared, striding forward and kicking Jack squarely in the stomach.

The force of the blow lifted the albino youth and hurled him out of the door of the dining room, flinging him down the stairs. Jack landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and let out a howl of agony at the gash his sword cut in one of his legs. Then he howled again as he realized he had landed on Wuya.

"Master?!" RJ 13 ran towards him, a squad of JackBots zooming along behind him. Jack's robot minion knelt beside his creator, lifting the wounded youth.

"Get out!" Chase roared, standing at the top of the stairs. "Get out and never darken my doorstep again, you pathetic worm!"

"Master, what's going on? I thought you and Master Chase –" RJ 13 began.

"Just get me out of here," Jack hissed. "And that order to protect Chase with your life? Cancel it!"

RoboJack Unit 13 blinked in confusion, but put Jack's arm around his neck and helped his wounded master to stand. They limped out of the palace, a squad of Jackbots forming a wall between them and the warrior cats that dogged their steps to the entrance.


	14. Epilogue

JackBots and CheerBots alike moved aside as RoboJack Unit 13 descended the stairs and approached his creator.

"Master?"

Jack Spicer sprawled boneless on an old couch down in his lair. Usually he lay on it while he watched TV or read, but now he merely stared up at the ceiling.

"Master? Pudding?" The robotic youth inquired, holding out a pudding cup.

"Tool," Jack muttered.

"What?"

"I'm a tool," Jack clarified, still staring up at the ceiling. "I always do this; someone comes to me for help and I jump to help them and once they're done I get thrown aside like a used Kleenex. I'm a tool. RJ 13, do you think I'm a tool?"

"Uh . . . . this unit has no data on that subject," RJ 13 muttered.

"I can't believe Chase tossed me aside. I shed blood for that little bastard and he boots me out for refusing to molest him when he was still jailbait. That's fucked up."

"Mmm . . . . Master was very impressive, though," RJ 13 offered. "You won a showdown and defeated Wuya."

"I won a _drinking contest_ and _killed_ Wuya," Jack sighed. "Still . . . . I was pretty cool."

The young genius sighed roughly and picked up a technical manual from the coffee table, flipped through it for a second, then let the book flop down on his face.

"Our Jackie?" Nana Spicer was descending the stairs gingerly, walking with her cane and with difficultly. RJ 13 instantly put down the pudding cup and went to help her.

"Our Jackie, since you've been so down since Our – since Chase went back to his father, I decided to bring you a present. Here, open this up, robot." Nana handed a garment bag off to a random JackBot.

The robot held up the garment bag while a second flew over and dragged the zipper down. Jack peeled up one side of the book to see his present. When space-black cloth with shining silver decorations came into view, Jack groaned and let the technical manual flop back into place. He let his hand remain draped over the book.

"It was your grandfather's SS uniform; don't roll your eyes, Our Jackie!" Nana snapped.

Jack groaned in answer.

"At least try it on; young men look so handsome in uniform and you know you are the spitting image of My Albert," Nana tried, fishing the officer's cap out of the garment bag.

"Just for that, I'm not trying it on, Nana. Seeing you giving me the eye creeps me right the hell out."

"You'd look marvelous in it! Look, see?" Nana reached over and pulled the goggles from RJ 13's head and replaced it with the lieutenant's cap. "Oh _yes_, Our Jackie; the girls would be all over you in _that_."

"Only if I posted pictures on aryanromance dot com, Nana," Jack groaned.

Nana Spicer sighed roughly.

"Our Jackie . . . . I know you're upset. I'm trying to help, luv. Tell me what I can do to help."

A sigh ruffled the pages of Jack's book.

"I don't know, Nana. I'm sad. I'm hurt and I don't know how to fix it. . . . . I appreciate it . . . . I do. But I don't know."

RJ 13 straightened the cap on his head and looked in the highly polished surface of a nearby piece of machinery. He apparently liked what he saw, for he lifted the cap to smooth his hair back away from the brim.

Nana Spicer mimicked her grandson's sigh and made her way over to the couch. She used her cane to knock his boots aside so she could sit down.

"Our Jackie . . . . I know there's a lot you don't tell me and that's all right. You're just starting out as an evil villain and maybe you mess up a lot; that's all right, too. It's a lot harder to be evil now than it was when I was your age. There aren't any great evil institutions to teach young men now. You have to figure everything out on your own. Of course you're going to make mistakes; it's all right if you do. Don't get depressed, luv."

Jack was silent for a long time, then he dragged the book down so that his eyes showed.

"I'm getting better, though." He murmured. "Lately . . . .I've been getting better. I outsmarted the good guys; I was beat up and weak and half-dead, but I managed to pick a contest I could i_win_. And then I killed my rival. She was a martial arts master, but I stabbed her through the heart with my sword. The same one I chopped her arm off with. Was that Grandpa's, too?"

RJ 13 studied his reflection for a minute, then looked over at the CheerBots waiting nearby. Chrissy and Amber glared coldly at him, but Deidre, Jenny and the others gave him an encouraging little smile.

RoboJack 13 grinned and reached for the garment bag.

"Hmm? No, Albert didn't keep his dress sword. I'm glad it came in handy, though. And I'm glad you're improving in evil, Jackie." Nana patted Jack's leg comfortingly.

"I just – maybe I need to change . . . . . something. Get a fresh perspective or something," Jack sighed.

"Maybe a change of clothes?" Nana Spicer suggested humor thick in her voice. "It's doing your robot double a world of good."

Jack leaned up to see RJ 13 in full uniform of a Nazi _Schutzstaffel_ lieutenant, a big grin on his face and a CheerBot on each arm. The albino youth slapped a hand over his face.

"RJ 13. . ."

"Master, look! There _is_ something to the uniform!" The automaton announced, grinning.

"It's quite . . . . surprising," Jenny said the confusion obvious in her voice.

"It's something about the . . . military image, I suppose," Deidre offered, stroking a hand down RJ 13's chest and toying with the medals she found there.

"And the cut of this jacket makes your shoulders look very broad," Heidi murmured, running her hands across RJ 13's silver epaulette-ed shoulders.

RoboJack Unit 13 threw a triumphant look at his creator.

"I am _never_ taking this off."

Despite himself, Jack felt a laugh burbling up out of his throat. The albino youth laughed helplessly.

"Okay, okay, you look good in that, RJ 13," he admitted, sitting up further and letting the book slip to his lap. "You _do_ know that albinos like us would have been either under study or euthanized under the Third Reich?"

"I'm not an albino, Master; I'm a robot. I don't need to eat or sleep; I can go for _hours_ without stopping—"the latter was said with a suggestive lilt and a quirk of his eyebrows that made Jenny giggle. "Hitler would have _loved_ me!"

"Yeah, until you chased after a Jew or a Gypsy woman; then he would have had your penis un-installed."

RJ 13's eyes widened and he whipped off his cap and covered his crotch protectively with it. Jack laughed again and flung his book at his robot double.

"Retardicon," he chuckled affectionately.

RJ 13 used his cap again to deflect the thick missile. After the book had flopped to the ground, the robot started to return the cap to his head, but frowned and peered at the lining of the hat.

"What is it?" Jenny asked.

"There's a bit of paper hidden in the lining," the robot youth announced. He pulled out a yellowed bit of paper and returned the cap to his head so he could have both hands free to unfold the paper. "It's a letter."

"What does it say?" Jack asked.

"_Zu wem kann es betreffen. . ._" The robot began.

"English, please, I'm not in the mood to think," Jack ordered.

"Yes, Master. 'To whom it may concern: I, Albrecht Speer, First Lieutenant of the _Schutzshaffel_, have in my possession the knowledge of the location of roughly 8 million English pounds in hidden Nazi gold and looted treasures. I attempted to retrieve this wealth several times, but was thwarted by lack of equipment and trustworthy men. Now I am an old man and can no longer make another such expedition. I leave this letter and map with my old uniform, in the hopes that perhaps a family member yet unborn can accomplish what I failed to do. . .'"

"Eight _million_ pounds?" Jack echoed.

"It's a . . . treasure map, Master," RJ 13 announced.

"Don't get your hopes up, Jackie," Nana Spicer cut in. "My Albert went after that treasure three times. He said you'd need a team of digging machines and a dozen strong men to reach it."

Jack stared at his grandmother for a moment.

Then, he started laughing hysterically.

RJ 13, the CheerBots, and the JackBots joined in.

Nana Spicer glowered at them.

"I'm not going to be laughed at by _robots_, Our Jackie! What's so bloody funny?!"

"J-JackBots, stop laughing at Nana and start prepping my Moler 3000 for use. RJ-13, quit macking on the CheerBots and grab your adaptors; we're heading to Germany!" Jack declared.

"The treasure's in Austria," Nana Spicer cut in.

"We're heading to Austria!" Jack corrected dramatically.


End file.
